


Son

by MiaLyn



Series: Son [1]
Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Justice League (2017), Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-01-01 05:24:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18329504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiaLyn/pseuds/MiaLyn
Summary: The last thing Bruce thought would ever happen was to have a child with his one-night stand, and find out about it a few years later. When Diana had started praying the gods for her loneliness to cease, she hadn’t expected an answer. She hadn’t even expected that kind of answer either.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, trying my hand at something new. I'm working on the multichaptering for 'Contemplation', but this one has been on my mind for a while too...Hope you enjoy :)

**Part 1**

The Batman was patrolling again, and frankly, beginning to regret putting the cowl at all. The November night was deadly quiet and he had a busy day tomorrow. The urge to return to the manor was growing steadily. It was almost two in the morning already.

_Perhaps I should cut it short…_

The moment the thought crossed his mind, the unmistakable noise of thugs in action caught his attention. He flew to the next building, a shadow melting into the shadows of his beloved city, and discreetly landed on a high rooftop. From his vantage point, he spotted a woman being cornered by seven of low-rate thugs, eager to have some fun. Not on his watch, he thought. The moment they closed on her, he jumped into action. The first few were easily flattened –too much muscles, too little brain, and when he turned to finish the remaining ones…Much to his surprise, they were all drooling on the pavement and the woman was staring at him.

She looked somewhat familiar, with her dark hair, dark eyes, olive skin and tall enough on those heels to rival Bruce Wayne’s height. She wore a blazer and dark jeans, close to her frame to show off her slender body. No wonder why she had been attacked, he thought grimly. Then again, seeing the men twice her size biting the dust, he figured she would have good reason not to worry.

“You do exist after all,” she spoke in a low, melodious tune. “Thank you for your help.”

The particular sound of her voice triggered the memory and Bruce realized that he _did_ know her.

 

**5 years ago**

_Jason was dead. The words kept playing in Bruce’s head like a mantra. He blinked at his half empty glass of whiskey, at the ice cubs that had already melted. How long had he been staring emptily at his drink without taking a sip? He glanced at the clock –one a.m. The bat would have been patrolling for two hours –if not four already. But he hadn’t drawn the strength to out the costume tonight._

_Jason had been dead for a week, and he couldn’t even be mourned properly as Robin. He had to tell the public his son had an accident during an impromptu holiday. Dick and he had a rather loud fight in Wayne Manor and the young man had left the compound swearing to never return. Alfred hadn’t spoken to him since the burial, and Bruce couldn’t bear the silence and hypocritical condolences from people he couldn’t care less about._

_His son was gone and that was the reality at the end of the day._

_So he had left Gotham, had stopped in a small town to crash the bar, hours away from his usual getaways. No-one had yet approached the brooding, large man who clearly wasn’t looking for company, and he was glad about that. Had he gone to Gotham, a flock of women would have surrounded him, try to ‘cheer him up’ and that was the very last thing he wanted right now._

_“Is the seat taken?”_

_Or perhaps he had spoken too fast. Bruce turned around to say that he had no interest in a flirt when-_

_“No, it’s not,” he found himself replying._

_The woman gave him a short smile and pulled the stool to settle comfortably. Her dark hair was set loose over her shoulders, olive skin glowing in the soft light, her slender body pulled a soft scent of jasmine, clear in spite of the smell of alcohol in the air. It wasn’t her stunning beauty that changed Bruce’s mind though, but the deep sadness he could read in her eyes. The woman wasn’t looking for a flirt; she just wanted some peace to grieve, just as he did. And men were less likely to approach a woman if she sat next to a big man._

_She ordered some strong alcohol and contently ignored him for a better part of an hour. As he expected, none dared to approach them as his frame kept unwanted company at bay. The clock was close to hitting two thirty when she decided to leave. She dropped a bill to cover her due and, after a nod of thanks, departed from the bar. Bruce watched her make way through the few remaining drunks and wondered if she was alone. Even though he thought this town fairly safe, he didn’t want her to risk being approached by the wrong kind of people. He dropped a bill in turn and followed her out. Thankfully, she wasn’t so far off when he reached the outside._

_“Excuse-me miss?” The woman turned around, her eyes flickering in recognition and polite curiosity. “It isn’t safe for a woman to be out so late,” he tried to explain without sounding patronizing or overbearing. The alcohol in his brain didn’t help formulate a coherent thought. He added for good measure: “Allow me to walk you home. Please.”_

_She was tall, almost taller than he with those high-heels, so he met her eye on equal ground. She started at him silently, questioning his motive. The intensity of her gaze made him wonder if she was reading through him. Something must have helped her make up her mind, for she eventually nodded her agreement and both fell in step._

_“I’m staying at the hotel six blocks down,” she announced and her voice sounded soft and melodious._

_“The Majestic?” he inquired. She nodded. “So do I.” A thought occurred to him. “Did you walk here?”_

_“I needed to clear my head,” she admitted. “Did you?”_

_Bruce gave her a rueful smile._

_“Even if I had, I’m not stupid enough to drive after drinking.”_

_“You didn’t take that much,” she pointed out. He felt her eyes on him again, and the curiosity that bleed through her voice. “Who were you drinking for?”_

_The abruptness of her question caught him off-guard; he nearly didn’t answer. But then he looked in her eyes and saw understanding and compassion and he blurted in spite of himself:_

_“My son died. I couldn’t…I couldn’t stay at home.”_

_His thoughts came to a halt. He no longer had a home. Wayne Manor had been burned to the ground, and he had no desire nor the inclination to see to its rebirth. Not with the wound caused by Jason’s death still so raw._

_“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said, and he sensed the genuineness in her tone. Curiosity came to him in turn:_

_“Why were you here?”_

_Honesty for honesty, and he was grateful when she answered:_

_“It is the death anniversary of a very dear friend,” she said, and Bruce felt a deeper sadness in her words. He suddenly wanted to reach out for her, touch her hand and comfort her, but wasn’t sure his gesture would be welcomed. That ‘dear friend’ of hers sounded more like a lost lover._

_“I’m sorry for your loss,” he echoed instead, and she gave him a tight smile._

_They walked the rest of the way in silence, entered the hotel together and reached the elevator. Her room was on the third floor, same as his. They stared at each other when they paused in front of her door. The woman hesitated a moment but then asked:_

_“Would you like to stay the night?”_

_Bruce wanted to decline. He desperately wanted to decline and leave to go…where? Back to his room, alone, drunk and depressed? Alfred wouldn’t drive in the middle of nowhere to get him back to the manor. And she, a beautiful woman, was offering something familiar, emotionally safe and impersonal. He eventually nodded and followed her inside. They both knew it wouldn’t be about passion or love or whatever fairy tale people loved to hear. When she closed the door behind them, when he kissed her, he was a lonely man seeking distraction from grief and when she kissed back, she was just a lonely woman seeking comfort. They could be lonely together, just for one night._

_They fell into her bed in a mess of tangled limbs, lost themselves in each other with surprising ardor. The overwhelming sadness was left at her door for a few blissful hours, the only sounds heard being their respective pleasure. The next morning, Bruce woke up first, was greeted by the sight of her bare back. She still sounded asleep, according to her regular breathing pattern. The alarm clock indicated five in the morning, which was far late than he usually stayed. He didn’t want to leave, he realized. He wanted to stay a little longer in this little cocoon and forget himself in her arms a few hours more._

_Bruce forced himself to slip out of the bed and picked up his clothes in silence. Before leaving, he glanced one last time at the woman. Her breathing pattern hadn’t changed but she was awake now, he could feel it in his guts._

_“Good-bye,” he whispered, his voice barely audible in the quiet room. “And thank you.”_

_He left without waiting for her answer._

 

**Present Day**

 

The woman he met one week after Jason’s…what was she doing here?

“What are you doing out so late?” he snapped. “Don’t you know Gotham is dangerous?”

The woman smiled wryly, unafraid of him, which startled him more than he cared to admit. A small sound caught his attention. The woman made a gesture of appeasement as he reached for his batarang.

“It’s alright Hip, you can come out,” she called softly. “He won’t hurt you.”

A small boy stumbled out from behind the dumpsters. He couldn’t be older than five, small and lean with a mope of dark hair on the top of his head. He hurried to hide behind the woman’s leg and peeked at him shyly. The childish behavior might have amused him, if he hadn’t been so caught off-guard.

“My car broke further up the street. Thank you for your concern but the hotel is expecting us. We will be back in Metropolis in the early morning.”

She ran a soothing hand in her son’s hair, a protective gesture too. Bruce felt dismissed. Unable to speak, he pulled his grappling hook and flew away to the next rooftop. He hid in the shadows and followed them from till they reached the hotel they seemed to be sleeping in. A cozy hotel, one that should have sent them a taxi or something to prevent this kind of situation. He frowned, pretty sure it belonged to one of his chains –he’d have to have a word with the manager. Still, she didn’t seem to be in need of money, which was a good start.

Bruce pondered on what she had said. Back to Metropolis. Did she live in Metropolis? _Why was she in Gotham?_ he wondered, his heart beating wild. Bruce Wayne hadn’t received a note from her, had he? Hip –a nickname he assumed –her son?

 _Could it be?_ He wondered in the back of his mind. He’d skim through his mail tonight, see if he hadn’t missed something inadvertently. And then…her name. He didn’t even know her name. _Easily done_ , he countered. A little hacking in the hotel’s database…

Bruce forced his heartbeat to return to a more normal pace, but he was completely distracted. One last tour, he thought, and then he’d return to the cave. He needed to focus, find out what was going on, and then…then he’d figure out what to do.

 

_The following afternoon…_

 

Diana checked her watch again, vaguely irritated. Ethan had promised to bring back Hippolyte at five, and he was running late. She knew the young man had a bad habit of not anticipating the traffic and they hadn’t anything planned for the evening, but it had been a long day and all she wanted was to hold her little monster.

She suddenly felt eyes on her, and looked around to find the source. When she did, her body tensed. A tall dark-haired man was standing on the other side of the road, his eyebrows furrowed, fixated on her. Her heartbeat accelerated; she knew she had taken a risk by returning so close to Gotham, but she hadn’t expected _him_ to wander in the streets in plain daylight, even less in Metropolis. She could only hope he had not recognized her.

“Mothermothermothermother!”

A small blunt force strong enough to topple any other adult slammed into her leg. Hippolyte gave her a healthy hug with a happy grin, as if he hadn’t seen her in weeks instead of mere hours. Diana bent to pick him up and settled him on her hip. He usually protested, claiming he was too old to be carried like a baby but today, he seemed to sense her uneasiness and wrapped his arms around her neck in strong childish embrace.

Ethan arrived seconds behind.

“Sorry Aunt Di,” he said, his face flushed in embarrassment. “Some guy ran into Lil’s bike, I made a detour to drop her off on the way.”

He looked a lot like Etta, with his red hair disheveled and his sparkling eyes. Diana smiled a little; now that her son was in her arms, she could forgive a little lateness.

“It’s fine, I hadn’t been waiting that long. Was he good?”

“It was _bo_ -ring, mother,” Hippolyte complained, his voice smoothed in the lapel of her coat. “May we go to the park?”

“He played with Legos all day long,” Ethan supplied, ignoring the boy’s declaration. “It’s been raining nonstop.”

Hippolyte pulled back and gave her his best puppy eyes.

“Mother, _please_?”

Diana patted the boy’s back.

“The park it is,” she agreed, and Hippolyte cheered. “Thank you Ethan.”

The young man saluted and wished her a good evening. Once he was gone, Diana put down her son and took his hand to guide him on the pavement. She quickly glanced back at the man. He was still there, still watching them. The unreadable expression on his face made her uneasy. She brushed the feeling away and focused on her boy, his small fingers trustingly clenching hers. She allowed herself to be distracted by his babbling all the way to the playground. There, she let him hurry to join the group of children already shrieking on the swings and other games and sat on an empty bench. Once she was sure he was distracted, she let her smile fade.

Hippolyte was already close to turning five. After nearly a long century of retirement from man’s world, she couldn’t recall the last time years had gone so quickly. She closed her eyes briefly, breathed in and out, willing the nervousness to flee her mind. He was safe. They were safe. The lonely man could not know. Diana opened her eyes, feeling a little less upset, and immediately glanced at the playground for signs of her son. When she had started praying the gods for her loneliness to cease, she hadn’t expected an answer. She hadn’t expected _that_ kind of answer either.

_“It’s a healthy boy,” the doctor said, carrying the struggling newborn in her arms. “Ten finger and ten toes –ouh strong little fellah.”_

_Diana, sweaty and exhausted from the past hours, welcomed the baby and cradled it against her chest. Her son was a reddish little thing with a wrinkled face and a great set of lungs. He was still covered with fluids and blood and other mess that had come straight from her insides, yet a small tuff of black hair covered the top of his head. She had never seen anything so beautiful._

_“We’ll clean him while you rest,” the nurse said. Diana felt reluctant to part from the screaming little thing and her hands actually trembled when he was taken from her. She kept him in her sight the whole time, refusing the drugs (that would not affect her anyway) and waiting for him to be brought back._

_When she had started feeling dizzy so many months ago, she had passed it off as a consequence of too many late nights working on her latest project and lack of proper rest. When she had retched for the fifth morning in a row, she had seriously started worrying that she had been cursed. Amazons didn’t get sick, or at least very rarely, and she hadn’t been sick in the near century she had spent in Man’s World. It wasn’t until she had to race to the bathroom in the middle of her diner with Nadia, Sameer’s granddaughter, that the latter had insisted to do a complete check up on her. Thank the gods Nadia was a doctor. She could hardly envisage walking into a clinic being who she was and consult a complete stranger._

_It turned out to be a much more humane issue after all. She was pregnant. And she had no idea how to feel about that. A living being was growing inside her. And the father…Hades, what about the father? A man she had spent one night with; a handsome, broken man with cold and lonely eyes, who had most likely forgotten all about her two hours after leaving her hotel room. If Hippolyta knew, she would have received the dressing down of a lifetime. Not to mention her future child was male._

_But now there he was there, he was hers, and she would not give him up._

_“Here’s the little angel back,” the nurse announced when she returned with her precious cargo._

_He looked so fragile, so innocent from the outside world. How was she supposed to protect him from now on? Was this how her own mother felt when she held her in her arms for the first time? The baby snorted and Diana couldn’t help but smile. She had spent nearly a century on her own. Thanks to this little man, she wouldn’t be alone anymore._

“Is the seat taken?”

His voice startled her she nearly jumped and berated herself for being so naïve; she had not expected him to follow her.

“It’s a free country,” Diana replied without looking at him, not trusting her own reactions. She waited until he was seated to steal a glance. He hadn’t changed much since she had last seen him, then again, it hadn’t been so long. He was still handsome in a rugged way, tall and broad, and the same loneliness seemed to hang over his shoulders. He didn’t meet her eyes, too focused on the little boy playing in the sandbox. He was seeking for a sign, she knew, something that would or not confirm what his primary thought had been after seeing her with Hippolyte.

She decided to cut it for him.

“The answer is ‘yes’, Mr. Wayne.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Son**

**Part 2**

 

When one spends decades training in sensing the others’ presence, one eventually picks up some things from a familiar step. Bruce could, for instance, hear Alfred’s annoyance through the slap of his shoe on the floor. He supposed he deserved it, after the stunt he had just pulled.

“I hope your trip to Metropolis was worth cancelling four important business meetings. Lucius was not happy.”

Bruce grunted, his eyes glued on his computer. He was reviewing what he had already scanned the previous day. Everything he could find on Diana Prince was plastered on the four large screens in front of him. She was a Greek expatriate, had grown up in the countryside, away from civilization. Her studies had been far above average and her various jobs had led her to become curator at the Louvre. She had come to stay in Metropolis to meet a client in Gotham. She also happened to be, according to the birth certificate tied to her ID, the proud mother of a four-year-old boy named Hippolyte Steven Prince. No father registered. Said child’s ID was also opened up front. Blue eyes stared back at him filled with innocence; a mop of dark hair adorned the top of his head. The round face and the small childish pout could have made him smile if not for the uncanny resemblance with his own face, many decades earlier.

“I’ve never thought you’d be looking at your children pictures, Master Wayne,” Alfred said with a hint of surprise.

Bruce didn’t bother with a reply. The butler was not stupid; it wouldn’t take him long to figure out something wasn’t quite right.

“Master Wayne?” Alfred repeated, and this time Bruce caught the intrigued tune.

“This is not me,” he replied, his voice surprisingly calm compared to the inner turmoil he felt inside. “The child is hers.”

Diana Prince’s portrait was still opened on the upper left screen. For a while, neither man spoke.

“Is it safe to assume you encountered the lady before?” the butler eventually broke the silence. His voice was eerily soft.

“Well, you did say you wanted a next generation of Wayne someday.” The humor attempt felt flat. Bruce had no desire to laugh. For one rare time, Alfred had no smart comeback. “His name is Hippolyte. He will be five in a few months.”

There was nothing but a heavy silence in the cave, only broken by the flutter of wings and squeaking sound of its initial inhabitants. Bruce knew his butler was now reading every document put on display: the ID of both Diana Prince and her son, the birth certificate with no father registered, and he would undoubtedly draw the parallel between his own childhood pictures. Hippolyte was his spitting portrait as a child, aside from his smile. He had his mother’s smile.

“She didn’t trust Bruce Wayne to be a good father.” He said blandly, and couldn’t blame her. “He was never supposed to find out; she had no intention of telling me. I reached out to her.”

Silence again. Alfred hadn’t expected that.

“How _did_ you find out?”

“She was in Gotham last night, attacked by thugs with the boy. The Bat interfered. I recognized her then. When I noticed Hippolyte, I had to check.”

“So you followed her to Metropolis?”

“Their stay is temporary; their plane is set to take off in two days. If I wanted to talk to them, I had to act fast. I couldn’t approach her till late afternoon.”

She wasn’t some idiotic model or a gold-digger. She had diplomas, she had a stable job with a good pay and it wasn’t hard to see the little boy was her world.

“Will you see them again?” Alfred finally inquired.

“I am meeting Miss Prince tomorrow morning.” He glanced at the clock. “This morning,” he amended.

“I take it she was not pleased by your sudden interest.”

“She wouldn’t talk in the park. She wanted breakfast, because it would give her time to organize her day.” He swallowed. “I wanted to find out more about her beforehand.”

_And make sure she hadn’t been lying about the place she stayed._

“And the verdict is…?”

“She’s normal. Mostly.” He paused, scanned a few documents. “There are a few blanks I would rather like to fill in her history, but none of her actions corroborate criminal activity.”

Bruce could hear Alfred rolling his eyes already.

“That would be a first,” he muttered. Needless to mention Selina, Talia or Andrea. The ballet of socialites he had bedded over the years didn’t count.

Bruce let the older man to his thoughts. It was already past midnight. Miss Prince had invited him over around seven. A quick hacking into the police activity showed a peaceful night –or as peaceful a night in Gotham could be. Bruce decided it might be for the best. He didn’t want to risk a bruise and arouse suspicion from his former one-night stand. Or scare the little boy, for the matter. Still, those seven hours might turn out to be the longest ones in his life.

 

**Son**

 

At six thirty, he was knocking at her door. In spite of the early hour, Bruce couldn’t wait any longer. Diana Prince herself opened the door minutes later. She was wearing a pristine white suit, the jacket attached with a small golden cord and the neckline decorated with a golden necklace. Her hair was tied in a high ponytail and the light makeup emphasized her dark eyes. She raised an eyebrow at his presence, but stepped aside to let him in.

“You are early,” she noted. Bruce shrugged in response.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he replied. Diana hummed, her lips pinched in annoyance.

Her hotel room was large and aesthetically rich. Two queen-sized beds stood next to the other, both properly made already. Hippolyte was sitting on the deskwork, already up and ready, busy drawing a picture. When Bruce entered, he turned around to glance at the visitor.

“Hip, come greet our guest.” Diana encouraged the boy. “Do you remember Mister Wayne? We met at the park yesterday.”

Hippolyte dropped his pen and rushed to his mother’s side. Bruce’s heartbeat hammered in his ribcage. The boy hadn’t given him much of a second glance the previous day, too busy swinging on the monkey bars. Even though he had been staying by Diana’s side for a while, he hadn’t given him the time of the day. This would be the first time he saw him from up close. He swallowed, crouched to be at the boy’s level. Pictures didn’t transcribe the intensity of those blue eyes, the _curiosity_ , as they faced this stranger.

“Hello Hippolyte,” he said quietly.

The boy wasn’t that shy –he didn’t _quite_ hide behind Diana’s leg. But he still kept very close to her.

“Hello mister Wayne,” he said in this sotto childlike tone. “You’re taller than mother.”

Diana ran a gentle hand in his hair. Bruce smiled, feeling the absurdity of the situation dawning upon him.

“I guess I am.” Which meant Hippolyte might become tall too, just like his parents. Damn. He was an effing _father_. The boy was his flesh and blood and the mother was still alive. How was he supposed to deal with this?

One last shy smile and Hippolyte darted back to the table. Bruce watched him, the messy hair, the good quality of his clothes, his lean and agile lithe body climbing back on a chair meant for a much taller adult. As if sensing their gaze on him, the boy sat on his knees and turned around to glance back at them.

“Ethan will pick you up in a moment,” Diana added. “Mister Bruce and I have to talk.”

His attention snapped back to her.

“He’s not coming with us?”

“I have to meet four clients today, the first at ten,” she responded. “I need to leave around nine, and I can’t afford to keep Hip with me at all times. Ethan is his godfather and has been babysitting him for a while,” she added. “And I would like no…distraction for our conversation.”

Bruce tightened his fists but nodded.  He cast another glance at the boy.

“I should have insisted having this conversation yesterday night then,” he retorted bitterly.

“I did not lie about being busy last night either, Mister Wayne,” she shot back. “ _Some_ of us have to work to earn a living.”

The jab made him wince slightly. He knew she wasn’t poor by any means, but she _had_ worked hard to get where she stood today. Juggling her schedule with the needs of her young son mustn’t be easy, especially if _he_ decided to barge back into their lives. And given the reputation he had built for himself, the tabloids still clinging onto his back, no wonder why she saw his presence as a hindrance.

Someone knocked at the door. Diana returned to open.

“Hey Di,” said the newcomer.

Bruce watched Hippolyte immediately jump off his chair without being prompted.

“Ethan!” he shouted cheerfully.

The newcomer was a young man in his mid-twenties, redhead and freckled with a big wide smile. He stepped in the hotel room after giving Diana a quick hug and picked up the child to give him a sound kiss on the cheek. Hippolyte yelped in protest but wrapped his arms around the man’s neck in return. He finally noticed Bruce’s presence, and stepped closer, mindless of the boy clinging at him.

“Ethan Denver,” he introduced himself with a firm handshake. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mister Wayne.”

Bruce plastered his best polite face, burying the simmering jealousy back in the depth of his chest.

“Likewise.”

He wondered if the young man was aware of his tie to the child. If he did, he didn’t linger and directed his attention back on Diana instead.

“Back at four?”

“Maybe a little earlier,” she replied. “Mr. Barnes wants to meet at the Mercury.” She grimaced. “If he turns out like Luthor, I won’t be staying long.”

“Don’t break this one’s fingers,” Denver teased.

If Bruce hadn’t known her purpose in Metropolis, he might have not understood the exchange. He also knew the Mr. Barnes in question was an art amateur, and that Luthor had tried to acquire a few pieces of artwork in the past years. Given the latter’s reputation with beautiful women, Bruce had no doubt as to what might have occurred. Some might argue he was no better, but at least _he_ waited for an explicit consent before making a move. It made him wonder how many times she had come here, and if she had brought her son with her too.

“Mr. Barnes won’t bother you,” Bruce inputted eventually. “Amongst the socialites, he has one of the best reputations.”

The two glanced at him, as if remembering his presence. Bruce felt slightly put off at their disinterest.

“Good to know,” Denver said and put Hippolyte back on the floor. “Go put your coat on, little rascal. We’re out for a looooooong day.”

The little boy giggled and hurried to the pile of coats on the chair next to the front door. He slipped his on and followed Denver outside. Bruce did feel a little better when the boy waved at him before leaving the two of them alone. Diana picked up her own coat.

“Let’s go,” she said.

She led him down to a café just down the nearly empty streets. The lights had barely been turned off and the morning traffic wouldn’t start until a good hour later. As she found them a table in the corner, Bruce remained silent. He had so many questions he didn’t know where to start.

“We have two hours,” she declared calmly.

“Did you know who I was when you invited me to your room?” he blurted.

She pinched her lips, looked sideways. Not avoiding his eyes, he noted, but rather out of…annoyance.

“Not back then,” she replied. “I found out when I saw the headlines in some trash magazine a few days later.”

They fell silent when the waiter approached. Bruce didn’t know how to pursue the conversation, feeling very much out of his depth. He had never been in this situation before, especially involving a woman who actually had brains and no criminal background.

“I’ve touched your scars, Mr. Wayne.” Diana went on. “I know a knife wound or a bullet wound when I see one. I do not want to get entangled in the business you are delving in and I certainly won’t let Hip be drawn in either.”

Bruce stared sharply at her.

“You think I’m hiding something?”

She met his eyes unblinkingly, almost daring him to contradict her.

“You _are_ hiding something,” Diana said simply. “I am not sure what, and I am not willing to linger and find out. Our life is in Paris, and I won’t change that.” She sighed and added reluctantly: “I am not a monster. If he wishes to know about you, I will not lie.”

“That is not enough,” Bruce replied without thinking. Cautious screamed at him, but something in his guts snapped. “I want to be part of his life. His _current_ life. I think I have a right to.”

_What was he doing?_ He chided himself. He couldn’t afford to lose focus. There was always something that would require his attention, something that will make him neglect his child. Dick and Jason were proof of his failures. Why did he think he could have better luck with a _toddler_?

Diana glared at him.

“How am I supposed to trust a man like you with my son?” she said coldly.

Bruce clenched his teeth. He never thought he would ever come to hate his public persona so much.

“I am more than what the papers write,” he hissed between clenched teeth. She didn’t believe him.

“Then prove it!” she snarled. “Prove you are more than just a shallow businessman who can’t get past his parents’ murder.”

That _stung_. Bruce snarled back:

“Don’t involve my parents in this! You have no right!”

Diana shut her eyes briefly and inhaled.

“I apologize, this was unfair,” she said briskly. “But the rest still stands.”

Bruce pursed his lips; he hated it but he understood her wariness. He had worked very hard to ensure that shallow reputation; it was only a matter of time before it came to bite him back in the ass. Her phone rang, interrupting the tension. A worried frown crossed her face as she picked up.

“Ethan?” Bruce tensed in turn. What did Denver want now? “Wait, wait, wait, slow down. Yes, breathe.” She paused and listened. “I see. We’re at the Bouchon. Yes, the one in the corner.” She sighed. “It’s not your fault Ethan, I’ll find a way. See you.”

She hung up and stared at him.

“Well,” she said, looking not quite pleased. “It seems you will have your chance to prove yourself, Mr. Wayne. Would you like to babysit Hip for the day?

 

**Son**

 

“Be good to Mister Bruce,” she repeated for the nth time. Hippolyte rolled his eyes and huffed impatiently. Diana couldn’t help the small smile on her face. “I will see you tonight.”

Her son pouted.

“Why can’t I come with you?” he whined again. Diana resisted the urge to roll her eyes and explained again:

“Ethan can’t keep you because of Lily’s accident. I have to work too. Mister Bruce was kind enough to agree to watch over you for the day. He is driving you to his house –it’s a big house. I know you will have a lot of fun exploring.”

The notion of adventure in a new place seemed to cheer him up a little. Diana was momentarily glad he had inherited her curiosity of the unknown. Hopefully Bruce would manage to distract him by letting him explore his domain.

She pulled him in her arms, held him tight, never tired of feeling his small body against hers. Parting from him always pained her. She didn’t like it when he was out of her sight for too long. She liked even less that she had to let him with that man. Unfortunately, Ethan really needed to stay by Lillian’s side and hospitals weren’t a suitable place for a young, fully-energized child. And she certainly couldn’t bring him on her little side-quest. She hadn’t been lying when she had mentioned having appointments all day long. Only Barnes was for her official job. The two others…

Hunting a full-grown Chimera was an even less suitable place for a five-year-old boy. Sometimes, she wished she hadn’t noticed that particular magical shield during an exhibition. The picture had seemed innocent enough, but she had recognized the engraving on the borders, signs that one of those mystical beasts had been trapped into it. She needed to retrieve it and put it to safety before an idiot stumbled across or even worse, figured out how to break it free. But then, humans were terrible at keeping themselves safe, and given the mystical nature of the threat, Diana couldn’t just stand by. Hence, Hip would be better off one day with his father –no matter how shallow that man might be –than stuck with her.

She knew the kind of man Wayne was. He would take interest for a while, and after the novelty of being a father waved off, would quickly become disinterested in getting actually involved. Hopefully, Bruce Wayne would come to that realization sooner than later, and Diana could distract Hip with something else. After all, she didn’t want to give her son a father he couldn’t rely on, and no matter how genuinely upset he sounded earlier, she didn’t believe Bruce Wayne would be up to the task.

She watched the car slowly disappear into the upcoming traffic. Bruce and she had exchanged phone numbers before Hip followed the man obediently. She just hoped he wouldn’t get attached too quickly. Hip could get upset upon the death of a cat he’d pet an hour earlier and he was comfortable around Bruce, in spite of his initial shyness. Her son had good instincts when it came to people. Had he hidden away from Bruce and refused to speak to him at all, Diana wouldn’t have let them alone and screw the Chimera.

She briefly closed her eyes, regaining her purpose, and turned her back, ready to face a new challenge. She had a handful of hours to locate the Chimera before that discussion with her potential client, and hopefully, enough time to hunt her down before having to pick up Hip tonight.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter this time, mostly because I thought it would be too lengthy otherwise. Enjoy :)

**Son**

**Part 3**

 

Bruce had tons of meetings he shouldn’t postpone. His secretary and his board of directors were going to kill him –and for good reasons. But Diana was offering the presence of his son for a few hours, because she had no choice –and a part of him was _oh-so_ _glad_ she had promptly asked –and he would take whatever opportunity he had. Diana had made it clear they would be flying back to Paris no matter what. Still, he had no idea how to care for a toddler.

“Where are we going Mister Bruce? Are we soon there?”

Hippolyte was on the backseat of his car, strapped in the children-chair Diana had graciously lent him, staring at him through the rearview. Bruce felt his hands clammy a little. He could stare down at monsters and murderers, but the thought of keeping an eye on a toddler unnerved him…mostly because he had no idea where to start.

“Uh…your mom told you I was keeping you today?” the little head bobbed forward. “Okay…what do you do with Ethan?”

Hippolyte hummed, thinking.

“We go to the park,” he said. “We play with legos. When Ethan has to work, I draw. And mother says I don’t have to nap when I’m with Ethan.”

Now that was one big fat lie. Hippolyte napped two solid hours during the afternoon: Diana had warned him that he would not like her retribution if her son didn’t catch some sleep.

“Nice try kiddo. I’m bringing you to my house. There’s this huge lake –it’s a bit cold to swim, but you can play in the water after the nap. Sounds good?”

Hippolyte put a finger over his small mouth, pretending to think.

“Okay.” Pause. “Are we soon there?”

Bruce cringed. He had a feeling this would not be the only time he would hear this question –they did have a little bit of road ahead.

“About an hour,” he replied matter-of-factly, racking his brain to figure out how to keep the child busy that whole time. 

“Oh, okay.” The boy said, looking contemplative. He glanced out the window for fifteen seconds. “Can you tell me a story?”

Bruce stiffened. A story? What story? A child’s story? He could remember quite a few, but he didn’t have the practice of storytelling, not unless he was bullshitting his way out of some trouble or had a book to read from. Unfortunately, his audience was a four-year-old boy, not an adult!

“Uh…” his brain racked for something quick. “Do you know the four little pigs?” Hippolyte frowned in distaste. Bad choice. Another idea, fast. “Peter and the wolf?” the scowl deepened. “The ugly duckling?”

“That are bedtime stories!” the boy chided. “Mother tells _real_ stories.”

 “Really?” Bruce was growing annoyed. “Like what?”

Hippolyte hummed again.

“Susanoo and the eight-head dragon!” he clapped happily. Bruce blinked. The _fuck_? “You don’t know Susanoo and the eight-head dragon?” he sounded horrified. Determination settled on his small face as he declared. “I will tell you!”

It turned out Susanoo was a Japanese legend and one of Hippolyte’s favorites. A Japanese god was helped by villagers to slay a gigantic eight-headed dragon. It took him a good ten minutes to narrate the whole tale and once he was done, Hippolyte offered to update him on many others. Bruce spent the rest of the drive listening with fascination as the four-year-old narrated edited versions of foreign countries’ myths and legends. His favorites tended to Greek, though it made sense as Diana was the curator of the Antique Division.

“And –and then she turned her into a _spider_!” Hippolyte cheerfully concluded the tragic ending of Arachne. “Because she tried to be…Mister Bruce, what’s the word for someone being smarter than another?”

“You mean outsmart?”

“Yeah! She tried to _out_ - _smart_ a goddess,” he repeated the word carefully.

His son’s speech also left him…well, speechless. He articulated properly, used words Bruce wasn’t quite sure four-years-olds were supposed to even know, and aside from a few syntax mistakes and word-searching, he expressed himself quite well. Diana had a very elegant speech, come to think of it. Even when she had been obviously angry at him, she hadn’t cursed or elevated her voice –though it might have been a close thing. Did she keep a close eye on her son’s speech too? Bruce made a mental note to carefully watch his own diction around his son.

When they arrived an hour later, Hippolyte had gone quiet, peeking with curiosity out of the windows. Bruce felt even more nervous than before; he had warned Alfred beforehand, and while the butler hadn’t said much, he could hear his excitement as to meet the little boy. He truly hoped his father-figure wouldn’t make a smart comment on Diana; he had a feeling Hippolyte would understand it and not take it lightly.

“What’s that?”

Bruce glanced on the side and winced at the sight of Wayne Manor burned to crisps.

“My old house,” he replied. “There was a fire and it burned down.”

Hippolyte frowned.

“That’s sad. You never built it again? You don’t have money?”

The genuine concern nearly made him laugh: Bruce Wayne was filthy rich. Then he realized a child so young would make the connection between new construction and finances. How did his mother bring him up exactly?

“I didn’t want to rebuild it,” Bruce replied softly. “It was a house, not a home.”

Hippolyte frowned in puzzlement. He opened his mouth to speak again but was soon distracted by the forest, much to Bruce’s relief. They arrived at the lake house. The little boy was suddenly much more awed at the calm waters than interested in pursuing his line of questioning. Alfred was already outside expecting them when they stepped out of the house. Bruce helped him out of the car. Hippolyte stared up at Alfred, then back to him. Bruce patted his shoulder gently.

“This is Alfred, he’s a friend. Alfred, this is Hippolyte.”

The boy hesitated a moment before shying away behind Bruce.

“Hi,” he said from behind his leg. The two men exchanged a bemused expression.

“He’s not going to hurt you, Hip,” Bruce cooed. “C’mon, do you think I’d let you with someone I didn’t trust? Your mother would kill me.”

At the mention of Diana, Hippolyte reluctantly left his hideout. He faced the butler with all the bravery of a four-going-on-five year old and extended his hand:

“Hello Mister Alfred,” he articulated clearly. “It is nice to meet you.”

That phrase had definitively been picked up from Diana. Alfred couched to be at his level and shook the small hand with full British solemnity.

“It is very nice to meet you too, Master Hippolyte.”

The boy frowned.

“Are you a servant?” he asked, puzzled.

“He’s a friend,” Bruce nuanced. Hippolyte twisted his neck to look up at him and whispered:

“But he called me _master_.”

Alfred released his hand, hiding his amusement behind a small smile.

“I am Master Wayne’s butler.”

The boy seemed even more confused.

“What’s the difference?”

“I care for the whole house maintenance,” Alfred explained. “I do the cleaning, take care of the garden, the food storage-“

Hippolyte’s little face brightened.

“Oh, you’re his caretaker!” Bruce hid his laugh behind a cough. “Miss Gisbon is our caretaker in Paris. She bakes cookies all the time and she was a fat cat named Robert. Do you have a cat Mister Alfred?”

“I am afraid not,” Alfred replied very seriously. “But I do bake cookies occasionally.” That seemed to win the child over. “Speaking of which, would you like to eat anything in particular for lunch, Master Hippolyte?”

The child blinked in awe.

“You can bake cookies _and_ cook too?” Bruce bit his inner cheek while Alfred nodded seriously. “Uh…knakies and mash potatoes please?”

Alfred’s slightly dismayed expression have having to prepare something so simple was almost priceless.

“Of course.” He’d have to make a quick jump at the grocery store, but Alfred’s pride wouldn’t allow him to disappoint the little boy. It would have to be quick though; Hippolyte usually ate around twelve, and Diana insisted he kept a regular meal pattern. For his own sake, she had added, else he would meet Cranky Hip, and Cranky Hip was not fun. The butler had about forty-five minutes to get the job done.

“What do you want to do in the meantime?” Bruce asked. The little boy blinked owlishly.

“Can we visit the attic?” he asked shyly.

“Why the attic?”

“There is always something in the attic,” he explained. “You do have an attic, right?”

“The house is rather new, we don’t have much up there,” Bruce said apologetically. Had Wayne Manor still be up and standing, he might have found wonders.

“Oh,” he looked disappointed. “Do you have a basement?”

A very large basement with plenty of high-tech toys he would never let a four-year-old approach within a pole distance. Besides, he had a feeling his mother would likely viciously take away his ability to have children if he did.

“Just wine unfortunately.”

Hippolyte sighed, looking bored again.

“Okay. Can we go to the forest?”

“I’ll be going with you,” he warned. The little boy grinned, hyped up again, and hurried off to the closest trees. Bruce spared a few seconds to turn to Alfred: “Can you buy a huge stack of legos and construction blocs? He likes to build things.”

Alfred smiled at the tidbit information.

“Of course Master Wayne.”

Bruce hurriedly joined the little boy, who was already pacing impatiently, and walked him to the path leading into the woods. They weren’t thick, per say, but the trees stood close enough to hide the house from an outsider’s view. Hippolyte seemed fascinated by everything. He would run to the plants he’d see, crouch and name them –and if he didn’t recognize it, ask Bruce for the name. Then he’d squint through thick bushes, checking for birds or insects or wounded animals.

“Wounded animals need to be found and then treated. Then they’re happy with you and become your best friend for live,” Hippolyte explained when Bruce asked why he was so determined to find something injured.

“You do realize animals won’t become your friends just because you heal them?” he pointed out. Four-year-old or not, he wouldn’t raise his hopes up.

“You don’t know till you try, Mister Bruce,” Hippolyte chided him. “There is a cat I named Moustache always lin- _ger_ -ing in the streets around my home. I gave him food once and he purrs every time he sees me now.”

Bruce wanted to point out again that stray cats and wild animals did not fit the same category, but gave up. If it made him happy to scan through the woods for stuff, he had no right to hold him back.

Hippolyte suddenly stopped by a tree with a large trunk and stared at the lower branches contemplatively.

“No climbing,” Bruce warned. The boy grinned innocently and resumed trotting around. When they returned at the houselake, about an hour later, Hippolyte was showing signs of tiredness. Bruce picked him up and carried him the rest of the way. The little boy made a token sound of protest but clung to his coat and rested his head on his shoulder, not unlike how he had held Denver earlier that morning. Bruce tried not to let the gesture affect him too much.

Alfred was back and given his self-satisfied expression, had completed the little boy’s demand. Bruce could only hope Hippolyte wouldn’t fall asleep on his plate before finishing it. Thankfully, the smell of cheap industrial sausages and mash potatoes seemed to pull him out of his lethargic state. He took off his muddy shoes and ran to the living room, paused in front of the table before asking for a sink to wash his hands. Bruce had to hold him by the hips so he could reach the water, which seemed to amuse the boy. He later devoured his plate, claimed it was the best food he had ever eaten in his entire life, and tried to argue he still had time to play outside before the nap.

His blinking eyes and drifting attention told a complete different story. Bruce didn’t have to work hard to coerce him to his own bedroom for a well-deserved rest. He himself was about to sleep for a bit in prevision of tonight’s activities but figured he’d crash the couch instead. Hippolyte found the bed to his taste, babbled about the formidable view, and then demanded a story to help him sleep.

Bruce was starting to wonder if the boy would ever tire of hearing stories, especially since he knew so many already.

“Or I can tell you a story of my own!” Hippolyte claimed proudly, after Alfred’s own list of potentials was exhausted.

“One of your own?” the butler repeated, intrigued.

“Yes, a story _no_ - _one_ knows.” The little boy assured him. “It’s the story of The Man With No Home. Sit and listen please. _Both_ of you.”

Alfred pulled a chair while Bruce sat on the border of the bed obediently. Hippolyte puffed with self-importance –for some reason, Bruce recognized a little bit of himself in that gesture -and began:

“Once upon a time, there was a man with no home. He travels all the time, all over the world. He’s very big and very strong but very kind and he always helps people. But he is very sad and lo-ne-ly too. And then one day, he wakes up in a house with a lady and her baby. The lady tells him: ‘ _I found you sleeping outside and brought you in because it was cold_ ’. And she tells him too: ‘ _You can stay a few days to rest._ ’”

Bruce expected a ‘ _and he stayed there and was happy with the woman and her child because he found a home’_.

“The man with no home stays because the lady is nice and she is not afraid of him. He plays with the baby and helps the lady do her chores. But one day, the lady tells him he has to go.”  

Hippolyte paused to mark a dramatic effect. Bruce realized he was leaning forward to hear more.

“So the man asks: ‘ _Why do you want me to do? Am I not good? Do I not help_?’ And the lady tells him: _‘Yes, you are nice and big and strong_ ’. And so he asks again: _‘Do you not love me? Because I love you and the baby_ ’. And she tells him: _‘We love you too, but you are a man with no home and will not be happy until you find that home. So go._ ’ So the man with no home leaves again. He travels all over the world again, until…”

Another pause for suspense. Bruce felt surprisingly irritated and motioned for him to continue. Hippolyte smirked smugly.

“One day, the lady gets a phone call. It’s the man with no home. He tells her he is stupid because he re-a-li-sis he always had a home, with his mum, just like the baby and the lady in their house. And he wants to see the lady again and asks her if she wants to start a new home with him. But the lady says ‘no’.”

“Why not?” Bruce blurted without thinking. Hippolyte and Alfred stared at him reproachfully for interrupting.

“She says ‘no’” and his voice turned quieter and sad: “Because she cannot make him happy. She lost her home too, a long time ago, and her baby is her new home and she doesn’t want to share. So they say goodbye and he never calls again. That’s it,” he concluded abruptly and far too cheerfully.

The two men exchanged a glance.

“That’s not quite a happy ending,” Bruce noted. Hippolyte gave him a puzzled stare.

“Stories no-one knows about are not all happy, Mister Bruce,” he replied patronizingly, and Bruce wondered _again_ how did Diana raise her son.

“So did the man with no home find a home in the end?” Alfred asked.

Hippolyte’s confusion turned on the butler.

“He always had a home, he just didn’t know it.”

The butler smiled.

“Ah. Then I hope his mother was not too upset when he returned.”

The boy shrugged.

“I don’t think so. Mother is happy when she sees me. Why should the mom of the man-with-no-home _not_ be happy to see him too?”

His words sounded so simple and naïve, and somehow profound at the same time. Bruce felt his throat thicken, finding an odd parallel with himself and the man with no home. He had lost his parents, had gone touring around the world leaving Alfred behind. And yet, Alfred had still been there upon his return.

“Can we go play outside?” Hippolyte demanded pleadingly. “I want to play by the lake now!”

“Nap first,” Bruce said softly. “Then we will play by the lake. That was the deal.”

The little boy pouted, but then he finally relented and curled into the covers. Within seconds, he was out like a light.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Son**

**Part 4**

 

Diana thanked the dockers and took her leave. From what he told her, the shipment carrying the Chimera was supposedly arriving from Europe this very day. In Gotham, of all places. At least, she wouldn't need to take the risk to jump through towns to get closer to her destination. 

She entered a library and picked up a magazine put on display near the entrance, its cover showing off easy cooking recipes. For all her skills, putting up something to eat was not something she had developed over the years; but when Hippolyte had arrived, she had forced herself to try and perform more than the basics. She could cook a variety of simple dishes, just not that many. Her boy was growing though, and while his culinary tastes remained those of a youngster (he would eat mac and cheese or fries and nuggets everyday if he could), she wanted to be prepared and expand her field. Diana smiled slightly as she remembered how eager he was to eat at other people's places, if only to avoid another experimentation of hers. She didn't take offence, truly -she liked eating out better than taste her own food too. 

Folding the magazine, she headed to the cashier to pay and returned in the street. Tracing the shipment amongst the many boats arrival would had not been an easy feat, but she had worked on harder trails with fewer details before. All she needed was her stealth, skills and hearing to figure out who was to receive the Chimera. Gotham was well-known for his corruption and crime, and should one of the underground figures put their hands on the magical artifact and awaken the beast inside...she shivered at the thought.

She walked all the way to the pier. The smell of fish and pollution made her frown and look away. A little further down the coast, a few people were loitering together. An adult and a child -most likely father and daughter, were walking side by side, watching waves crash against the pebbles of the shore. The sight brought her a couple years back, where she and Hip had done pretty much the same one sunny afternoon.

_Hippolyte's eyes were wide in wonder, amazed at the gentle coming and going of the waves. Diana carefully set him down, holding his hands upward as his small feet touched the cold sea for the first time. He had begun to walk recently, still needed her hold to stand upright, and she was too glad to guide him for a while._

_The toddler shrieked in surprise as another cold wave caressed his tiny legs, but soon awe and amusement replaced the shock. He began kicking the water in earnest, a huge grin on his face._

_"It is fun, isn't it?" she asked as Hippolyte kept splashing, clinging onto her hands. "I remember mother used to bring me to the beach too. I would play in the waves, even growing up."_

_He didn't understand -nor was he paying attention, but Diana still felt the urge to remember, and the memories didn't taste as bitter._

_"You would have loved playing on the shores of Themyscira, little one," she went on. Wistful thinking; her mother would have never allowed the boy access to her homeland._

_Diana sobered at the thought of Hippolyta meeting her namesake. How would she react,_ should _they meet one day? If that day ever came. She couldn’t find a way back, not for lack of searching; and with Hip in her care, her attention was definitively caught for two decades –depending on how long it took him to grow._

_"Ma!"_

_She looked down, startled at the sound. Hip had crocked his head backwards, staring up at her with a puzzled little frown. His big eyes met hers and her heart melted at the sight._

_"Ma!" he repeated insistently and gave a kick in the waves. "_ Ma _!"_

_Hip might have not developed language yet, but he was expressive enough to convey his meaning. Right now, he was positively shouting: kick the waves with me!_

_She chuckled and gave a small nudge to the upcoming water. That seemed to satisfy her son who resumed his activity with renewed energy. Diana decided to just enjoy the moment, and stored her grim thoughts for another day._

She smiled as the memory was tucked back in a corner of her mind. The cold wind on her face reminded her of her current mission. One quick glance at her watch indicated that she still had a little less than two hours before she needed to show at Mr. Barnes' office. Less than two hours to find the mystical creature. A whole pier and dozen warehouses to explore. She hoped her appointment wouldn't drag on -while she doubted there was a big risk for the beast to awaken so soon, she didn't like having to push back her tracking.

Speaking of beasts... 

Diana briefly wondered how Wayne was fairing with Hip. How many stories had her boy drawn from him? No doubt he would harass the man for more material as her own sources were starting to get drained. Her chest arched as she keenly felt his absence. He would have loved hunting the Chimera -although he would try to earn its affection rather than subdue it. Perhaps when he grew older, she would consent having him follow her around…in the meantime, she had to rely on someone else to feed his thirst for adventures…

Diana brushed the last thought aside. It was Hip’s naptime and she wanted to have a word with his temporary guardian for the time being. One call, then she’d pursue her investigation a little further –and hopefully in time to secure both her appointment and the chimera.

 

**Son**

 

Alfred eyed his employer as they walked out of the bedroom. He watched as the man carefully shut the door, an odd expression on his face. He looked...older. Tired. Puzzled. Lost. And at the same time…a great deal calmer than he had ever seen him. And the reason why was lying in his bed on the other side of the wall. 

"He is a gentle child," Alfred remarked, keeping his voice down to a whisper. A wry smile grew on Bruce's face.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "A kind one. He's open, and he talks a lot." 

"A trait you used to share as a child," Alfred remarked fondly. Before his parents were murdered, Bruce used to be so open and curious too. Watching the young Hippolyte had brought back fond memories.

"He doesn't know I'm his father." 

The butler lost his smile. He had suspected as much, but hadn't dared ask yet. 

"Does he have…a substitute?”

Bruce sighed.

“Not as far as I know. He mentioned many uncles, aunts and cousins, but no father. Miss Prince didn’t mention she had someone in her life either.”

“And is Miss Prince about to remedy to that lack of substitution, now that you are aware of his existence?" 

The younger man ran a hand in his hair. Apparently, the subject hadn’t been discussed yet.

"I'm sure she wouldn't if she had a say in this. I'm not sure I want to remedy to that either," he admitted. 

Alfred immediately felt anger grow in his chest.

"You have dedicated two decades of your life to protecting this city," he toned angrily. "You deserve some good things in your life. This little boy could be one of them regardless of his mother's opinion!" 

Bruce glared at him.

"If people find out one day, _they_ will be the first targeted.”

“So will be Master Dick and everyone in the know,” he pointed out.

“Dick is a grown man and chose to enter and exit this life. Diana and Hippolyte never asked for any of this –and he’s not even _five_.”

“So you will end up ignoring him _‘for his own good’_?” Alfred snapped.

“I don’t know. And that’s if she does grant me visitation rights,” he snapped back. "She is protective of him for good reason –Bruce Wayne is an irresponsible man, no sensible woman would brag having my child…not unless there was another reason, or interest. Diana isn’t that kind of woman, she wants his happiness before all -and don't tell me she raised him ill -he's a good kid.” Alfred was cut short in his reply when Bruce pulled his phone out of his pocket. The corner of his mouth lifted imperceptivity, but enough to catch his attention. "It’s her."

He picked up, brought it to his ear and exchanged the customary pleasantries. A woman’s voice, smooth and clear, replied politely. The phone wasn’t on speaker, but if Alfred strained his ear, he could hear the words decently.

_“How is Hip?”_

_The boy had been in their care for a whole morning, and now napping is when she calls?_ Alfred thought uncharitably.

“He just went to sleep. He wanted a story but ended up telling one.”

A soft chuckle echoed on the other side.

_“That is my boy. Did he cause you any trouble?”_

Bruce’s expression softened.

“None whatsoever. He’s very well-behaved.”

_“Good. I will have a stop to make after my last meeting, but I should be at your house around six pm.”_

“Alright.” Bruce hesitated before asking: “Will you be staying for diner?”

Silence. For a moment, Alfred thought she would hang up without giving a reply, until she said very slowly:

_“We shall see when the time comes. Goodbye Mr. Wayne.”_

Then she hung up. Bruce stared at his phone with an odd expression on his face. Alfred knew exactly what it meant. He was annoyed but intrigued. The man's micro-expressions told him his charge was not quite indifferent to the lady. 

"What are you going to do with Master Hippolyte?" he asked eventually. Bruce pocketed the phone, looking grave. 

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "I will have to think about it."

"Think fast then, Master Wayne," the butler said. "I believe Miss Prince will not wait for your final decision to make one of her own." 

 

**Son**

 

With Alfred back to his cottage, Bruce tried to catch an hour of sleep on the couch –as his bed was currently occupied. He somewhat managed to doze off and was roused by the little boy at three thirty sharp. _Roused_ wasn’t the appropriate term though. Being jumped on by a giggling toddler who seemed to have lost his reserve around him, and narrowly avoiding a catastrophe by _not_ sending him into a wall like his reflexes would demand, seemed more like it. Because yes, Hippolyte did jump on his stomach, and seemed to find his wake-up-with-a-start-in-near-panic reaction hilarious.

“Never do that again,” was Bruce’s angry warning once the child was done laughing. If he had hurt his son upon a knee-jerk reflex, he would have never forgiven himself.

Unfortunately, Hippolyte merely brushed his warning off and demanded to go to the lake now. Bruce had half a mind not to out of spite. But then, those excited blue eyes and adorable smile –did anyone resist his cuteness at all?- silently urged him to put on his shoes. His anger completely melted at the sight of Hippolyte running down the edge of the lake, laughing like the energized battery he seemed to be.

They walked along the shore –Bruce categorically refused that he’d kick at the waves like he seemed to crave, and both eventually reached a bench, on which Hippolyte promptly sat to gaze at the water. When Bruce joined him, he immediately demanded:

“Tell me a story.”

Once again, Bruce resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“You really do love stories, don’t you?”

The little boy grinned.

“Mother says you can tell a lot about a person when they say a story. So tell me one. Please? It can be a story no-one knows. I like them better.”

“A story no-one knows, eh?” Bruce repeated, feeling the boy’s expectant gaze on him. He nodded firmly in return. Well, Hip hadn’t ceased to request a story from him. He briefly wondered if these stories ‘no-one-knew’ were just narrated passages of lived lives. It would make sense…then was the man with no home someone Diana and the boy had met before? He thought about it, made up his mind and decided he was looking too hard into this.

“There is a story about a dark knight, but it’s not a very happy one.”

He could always deny he was the main character later. After all, it was just a story, a famous urban legend from Gotham…and maybe a hint to Diana of whom he really was. Somehow, he had this feeling she would figure it out sooner or later. She seemed smart like that. And if Hip was to stay in his life (and to be honest, he was considering it more and more) Diana needed to know.

Hippolyte shrugged indifferently to his warning and opened his eyes wide in anticipation.

“Alright.” Bruce cleared his throat. “So, once upon a time, there was a little boy. He lived with his parents in a big city. His parents loved him and he was very, very happy. But he didn’t know there was a monster living in his city, lurking in the shadows.” Hippolyte nodded understandingly. He went on: “One day, the monster took away his parents, and the little boy was left alone.” He paused. “He was angry. So very angry. He became hurtful to the people around him, he pushed the ones trying to help away. In the end, he grew up and decided to tour around the world. He met a lot of people too, bad and good, he learned a lot of things…and then he decided to return home. This time though, he had a mission.”

“Kill the monster?” Hippolyte assumed.

“At first, yes. But then, he realized there was not just one monster, but so many more and his city was full of them. So he turned into the Dark Knight to fight them all.”

Hippolyte nodded solemnly.

“Did he kill all the monsters?”

“The Dark Knight never kills,” Bruce continued gently. “Else he will become a monster himself.” The boy nodded again, contemplative. It stunned him that even at such young age, Hip seemed to understand grave situations, and it put him ill-at-ease. Bruce suddenly wanted to rewind time and take back the past two minutes. This was a big mistake. “Listen, Hip, this story…can we keep it between us?”

The boy frowned.

“It’s a secret story?”

Bruce stared down at him in surprise.

“What?”

“Mother says some stories are secrets. Is the Dark Knight a secret story?”

Whatever worked. Bruce nodded slowly. The little boy scooted closer and leaned his small head against him, his tiny arm tried to wrap around his waist in an attempt of a comforting half-hug. Bruce tensed, startled. In spite of the thick jacket, he felt the warmth of the small body cuddling against him.

“Mother tells me that secrets stories, sometimes they stay here,” Hip moved a hand to pock at his head. “And then here,” he pocked at his chest, over his heart. “And they can make people sad.”

He released him –taking the warmth away –and lifted his head to meet Bruce’s gaze. His cerulean eyes, wide and innocent and inquiring seemed to read through him.

“Mother was sad too, but when I arrived, she says she is happy because she is not alone. Are you sad, Mister Bruce?”

He felt his heart sink a notch further in his chest. He wanted to despise Diana so much for not telling him about his son, he wanted to be _angry_. But how could he, when that sweet, intelligent child showed him kindness and compassion even though he didn’t know him? He was polite and well-raised, but so very warm and open and lively, and too young for the horrors of this world. Were those stories a way for Diana to prepare him to the real world? Bruce had no idea. He only knew she had raised him well.

“Not anymore Hip.” _Not when you are around,_ he thought. Alfred was right. Perhaps he did want that little boy around a bit longer.

A split second later, Hip was rising to his feet and tugging at his sleeve with a wide grin.

“Come on Mister Bruce. Come play with me!”

Bruce could only smile back and comply.

 

**Son**

 

The night was growing on Gotham. Hip fell asleep on Bruce’s table, his small fingers clenched around a pencil, paused in mid-drift on a piece of paper. After a lengthy playtime by the lake, the boy had happily accepted his and Alfred’s help to assemble a formation of lego that vaguely looked like a turtle. Then, he had required the necessary stuff for drawing, where his fight against exhaustion had given in. Bruce carefully picked the boy up –he didn’t even stir –and carried him to the couch. Hip’s dirty socks would spoil the pristine white couch, but he didn’t care. For now, he was content watching the boy catch a restful sleep.

Then, his mood turned a little soberer. For the third time within two hours, Bruce pulled out his phone and dialed Diana’s number. For the third time in two hours, he ended on the voicemail.

_‘I am unavailable for the moment. Please leave your name and number, I will return your call as soon as I can.’_

“Hey it’s Bruce Wayne again. Just tell me if you’re okay. Hip is sleeping now, but I’d like to tell him his mom is on her way when he wakes up. Bye.”

He hung up and eyed his phone nervously. Diana should have arrived hours ago. Her meeting with Barnes shouldn’t have lasted so late in the afternoon. It was close to eight pm now, yet he still had no news. He had contacted Barnes’ secretary, who had confirmed his meeting with Miss Prince had ended a little before four o’clock. When he tried his luck with the hotel she was staying at, they had informed him that Miss Prince had briefly stopped at her room to pick up a large bag –one of the staff had offered to help her carry it, and she had declined with her usual smile. And then, she had taken off god-knew-where. Even Ethan Denver –a very last resort- had no idea where she had gone, having been stuck in the hospital all day. 

So far, Hippolyte hadn’t asked after his mother and Bruce hoped he wouldn’t for a while. Alfred had taken upon himself to prepare diner –planning a little extra in case Diana decided to show up –and Bruce was halfway debating if he should leave the cowl behind for the night in case she didn’t. Something must have happened. Diana wasn’t the kind of woman who would abandon her child. He had seen her protectiveness, he knew of her situation –comfortable and stable, and had no doubt only something terrible would keep her away. Metropolis was not Gotham, but anything was possible.

_Where are you Diana?_

He was growing worried too.

“Master Wayne.” Alfred approached him, still wearing his apron and his hands covered with some kind of sauce. If Bruce was a betting man, he’d say his butler was relearning bolognaise. “You should see this.”

He followed the older man to the kitchen and saw the breaking news. Earlier in the day, in the outskirts of Gotham, a warehouse had burned down after a rather impressive explosion. It had been a storage place, regrouping objects supposed to be shipped all over the world. The footage pre-explosion showed people walking around the building. Amongst them, dressed in a stylish long dark coat, Diana Prince was speaking to one of the employees. He showed her something in the direction of the warehouse. Bruce watched with a sense of horror as she disappeared inside the building, seconds before it busted into flames.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Son**

**Part 5**

 

_“Master Wayne.” Alfred approached him, still wearing his apron and his hands covered with some kind of sauce. If Bruce was a betting man, he’d say his butler was relearning bolognaise. “You should see this.”_

_He followed the older man to the kitchen and saw the breaking news. Earlier in the day, in the outskirts of Gotham, a warehouse had burned down after a rather impressive explosion. It had been a storage place, regrouping objects supposed to be shipped all over the world. The footage pre-explosion showed people walking around the building. Amongst them, dressed in a stylish long dark coat, Diana Prince was speaking to one of the employees. He showed her something in the direction of the warehouse. Bruce watched with a sense of horror as she disappeared inside the building, seconds before it busted into flames._

Bruce’s eyes immediately darted to the living-room, where he had just laid the little boy to sleep.

“What now?” Alfred wondered out loud, following his gaze.

“There is no formal identification of the bodies yet,” Bruce slowly declared, his heartbeat slamming in his ribcage. “And there were many injured.”

The butler’s attention snapped back at him.

“For heaven’s sake, Bruce! You have seen the footage! The probability for her to survive is-“

“I know,” he snapped back. _Think_ , he ordered himself. _Think with your head._ “Hippolyte sleeps here for now; don’t tell him a thing yet.” He decided eventually. “I’ll go on site and see what I find.”

 

**Son**

 

“It’s okay,” Hip assured him as he slipped on the oversized undershirt Bruce had lent him for nightwear. “Mother works overtime sometimes. I stay with Ethan and Nadia or Ralf or Mattie or Mrs. Pepper.” He grinned. “One time, I could sleep in a big tree in Africa! Mister Loop stayed so I didn’t fall and the sky was very bright with stars!”

“You’ve been to Africa?” Alfred inquired gently. The little boy nodded eagerly.

“Yes! And Japan, and Spain, and –and England and Chile and Brazil too! Mother has friends _everywhere_! She says it’s nice to…” he frowned, searching for his words. “Keep contact with people.” His smile grew and he added in a quiet, mischievous whisper: “I have lots of friends too. Even mother doesn’t know of them.” He put a finger over his mouth and winked. “It’s a secret!”

“I see,” Bruce said, noting in a corner of his mind that he hadn’t found so many travels in Diana’s history account.

“Do you have a belt, mister Bruce? I don’t want to step on your shirt,” he suddenly asked. His arms flapped helplessly in the sleeves, the collar slipped off his shoulder and the bottom actually touched the ground.

“Why don’t I carry you to bed?” he suggested instead and, once again, lifted the boy by his waist.

Hippolyte giggled and ‘weeeeee-ed’ happily, pretending to fly as Bruce held him flat. The boy was a lightweight compared to what he lifted when he trained. Alfred undid the bed, let him settle comfortably and covered him properly. As expected, Hip demanded a story, which Alfred graciously offered. It was another story ‘no-one-knew’, one Bruce highly suspected being the embellishment of one of his childhood stunts. Once over, Hippolyte promptly fell asleep again. Master and butler agreed that Alfred should only partially monitor him from the house, in case Hip awoke in the middle of the night and demanded attention. The older man settled comfortably on the couch with a very high-tech laptop and Bruce descended to the cave. If the Batmobile drove slightly faster than regular patrol, it wasn’t pointed out.

He arrived on site within an hour. The remains of the building were still smoking but the area was deserted, safe for two officers keeping guard. Batman knocked them out and began his own touring of the sight. The police had begun investigating and yellow ribbons and plastic tags still floored the ground. He checked the same perimeters, sampled dust, compared what he saw and what Gordon’s men had deduced. From what he had hacked earlier, the source of the explosion was suspected to be accidental. The faulty gas pipe seemed a decent theory to hold onto. The warehouse wasn’t up to norms and maintenance a nightmare. No less than a hundred people worked in the area, and if one of them had lightened a cigarette at the wrong moment… worse luck had caused a violent boom that ended up taking away half the warehouse, its staff and clients and Diana Prince.

In spite of his own investigations, Bruce couldn’t find a fault in their reasoning. No matter how much he wanted the explosion to be caused by a villain, the first clues indicated it was indeed accidental. The thought made him clench his teeth in anger; he didn’t want Diana to have been burned to crisp because of an accident. He didn’t want Hip to become an orphan because his mom was at the wrong place at the wrong time. He wanted –needed someone to blame, someone to focus his anger on. Someone Hip could focus his anger on. Bruce knew all too well that the loss of a loved parent would take a tool on anyone’s psyche. And he had no desire to announce to that little boy that he would never see his mother again. He didn’t want to become the bearer of bad news –and feel Hippolyte’s resulting resentment upon him. Diana had accused him of never growing past his parents’ death. Perhaps she wasn’t far off, he thought grimly.

_He won’t be an orphan,_ a little voice whispered in the back of his mind. _He has you now._

_You and a dozen more people to watch over him_ , another voice whispered.

Bruce wasn’t stupid enough to believe Diana didn’t have a contingency plan in case something happened to her. Perhaps he could offer his help for whoever ended up becoming his guardian. Perhaps he could apply to guardianship. Judges had granted him Dick and Jason’s custody already, why not his own son’s?

_Diana isn’t dead yet,_ the little voice reminded him. Bruce berated himself; until Diana’s body was found, he would consider her _missing_. Alfred would be checking the names on the hospital charts and keep him informed if hers popped up somewhere in either list. So far, the butler hadn’t contacted him. There was hope yet. He ran a hand over his face. Thinking of Hippolyte’s cheerful face, and then imagining the twinkle in his eye vanishing upon hearing the news…he was very close to shouting in frustration. The boy didn’t deserve such a fate. He almost wished he had declined babysitting Hip for the day now. If the little boy hadn’t been with him, if he had stayed with Diana, perhaps she wouldn’t have gone to that warehouse to do whatever business she had there. Or worse…perhaps she would have brought him there, and they’d both be…

At first, he thought he imagined the growl.

Then, his senses picked up a presence in his back, and he felt no longer alone.

Bruce slowly turned around. Something moved from behind him. At first, he wondered if a circus had arrived in Gotham and accidentally let a lion loose. And then he realized it was not a lion. Not _just_ a lion anyway. The creature was huge, the size of a small horse, nearly as tall as he. It had the body and the head of a lion, but also a goat’s head and _what the hell was that a snake in guise of a tail?_

Now that it had his attention, the beast roared louder. The goat head opened its mouth and Bruce barely had the time to duck before a column of real light fire hit the spot he was standing on seconds ago. He rolled away, jumped again to dodge yet another blast. This time, he squeezed a split second to throw a batarang to the creature. It hit its chest and exploded. The beast roared and came out, much to his shock, entirely unharmed. And shock was the only reason it took him a split second longer to dodge it when it came charging. Its large paw reached for his leg. One particularly sharp claw somehow managed to tear through the _reinforced_ _kelvar_ fabric of his uniform and scratch his leg.

He pulled back another batarang, aimed it to its head instead. The second explosion didn’t do much harm, but at least, it distracted the beast long enough for him to stand more steadily. From the sharp pain in his lower leg, he had just gained a wound flesh, albeit not a deep one. That hadn’t happened in years.

“Watch out!”

The creature’ retaliating fire would have reached him, had a third party not jumped between them and blocked the heat. When the heat and smoke died out, he blinked to clear his vision and get a good view of who had ‘saved’ him.

He gasped and goggled as he recognized none other than _Diana Prince_ dressed like a _gladiator_ with metallic bustier and boots, short leather skirt and a shield and sword of all things. The beast growled as it paced nervously at a distance, hesitating now. The woman took advantage of its distraction to spare him a glance.

“Aren’t you a little far from your customary hunting grounds?” she asked.

Her armor only covered her vital areas and she moved like she was used to it. He hadn’t seen her arrive or sensed her presence beforehand. Very rare people ever got the drop on him.

“Who are you?” he breathed, stunned. She looked ethereal with her loose hair flying around her face, lethal in spite of that out-of-time armory. A tiny part of his brain pointed out he had never seen such a beautifully dangerous woman before.

“Someone interested putting this creature down,” she retorted sharply, her eyes drifting from him to focus on the more immediate danger.

“What is this?”

The woman snorted.

“And I thought the Bat was the greatest detective of the world,” she jabbed. “This, my friend, is a chimera.”

So he wasn’t dreaming. The beast paused in its pacing, still growling, and eyed them like a piece of meat –which was what they probably were in its eyes.

“How do stop it?”

Diana shifted on her feet into a more combative pose.

“This is my fight and my duty to contain it. Stay out of the way.”

 And then she jumped at the beast. Or flew towards it. Bruce still wasn’t sure his eyes were tricking him or not. He could only watch as the woman dodged the columns of fire and moved fast enough to stand inches away from the beast. The sword first slew the goat head. It made an awful scream before she sliced the snake tail in turn. And then her blade found its target in its chest. The chimera roared –as only the lion head remained –and staggered, only to fall with a heavy ‘huff’ on the ground. Bruce approached it cautiously. As Diana didn’t send him away, he figured it was relatively safe.

Now that it was vanquished, he took the time to give it a real look. Its hair was thick, the muscle strong and hard. The body was definitively close to a lion’s, but a _heck_ of a monstrous healthy lion. Diana pulled out a tissue out of nowhere and started wiping the blood off her weapon.

“Why did the sword work?” he wondered out loud. Explosions –a small one yes, but still an explosion, would not. The woman kept cleaning her blade.

“This sword is not ordinary,” she replied. “It was blessed by the gods and forged a long time ago.” Once the blade was sufficiently cleaned, she sheltered it back. “A simple Chimera didn’t stand a chance.”

_A simple chimera she says,_ he thought humorlessly. Bruce wondered if he could have come out alive of a confrontation against that thing at all –or how long it would have taken him to put it down.

“Did you know of its existence before the explosions?”

Diana did not reply right away, but the pain on her face was suggestion enough.

“She was trapped in a magical artifact and awakened by mistake,” Diana said bitterly. “I arrived too late, thinking I had enough time to take her away. Those who accidentally summoned her had no control over her. Those lost lives are my fault.” She stepped closer to the beast, knelt, and hoisted it over her shoulder like it weighted a feather. Blood began dripping down her skin and armor. She stared at his injured leg briefly. “Though she is a myth, your wound will not hinder you should you treat it carefully.” She then met his eye. “I wish you best luck, and may our paths never cross again.”

Bruce stared at the chimera’s dead body.

“What will you do with that?”

She gave him a pained smile.

“Burn it to crisp. I cannot let mankind study the remains. Only the gods know what they would be capable of again.”

And upon these words, she flew away.

 

**Son**

 

The leg injury stung a little during the drive back, but as Bruce examined it a little later, it really was just a flesh wound, so he cleaned and bandaged it before returning to the manor.

Hippolyte was curled on the couch when he entered the house, covered by a warm blanket. Alfred was sitting next to him and petting his hair fondly while the laptop’s screen was carefully inching away from him. Bruce watched the peaceful scene. The butler used to do the same gesture when he was but a small boy too; he remembered how relaxing it felt. When he regretfully stepped in the room, the older man gave him an inquiring glance.

“She’s alive.”

The relief on Alfred’s face was instantaneous, so was his incredulity.

“How?”

“Later,” he said, not wanting to risk Hippolyte overhearing and repeating his suspicions. “Why is he here?”

“Master Hippolyte asked after you, and when I informed him you were out, he wanted to welcome you home,” the older man replied quietly.

Bruce felt his throat constrict and nodded. He had only spent a day in his company, and knew he couldn’t let him out of his sight for too long. He stepped closer, bent over the child and picked him up. Hippolyte didn’t wake up, only shifted more comfortably in his arms.

“I’ll put him to bed,” he said quietly. His voice was quavering. The small weight warmed his chest in ways he hadn’t felt in years. The buffing breath in his neck tickled his skin. One hand of his was enough to cover half of the child’s back. Hip appeared so fragile. Would he be, one day, invulnerable like Diana?

If he ever figured out what Diana was.

He carried his son to his room –limping slightly, but still steady -laid him down and covered him. Hippolyte mumbled something and rolled on his side, hogging the covers as he did, wrapping himself in a cocoon. Bruce couldn’t help smiling –he had no idea if Diana was a blanket-thief, but he certainly was. When he returned to the living-room, Alfred was still there. He looked tired but alert, staring at Bruce expectantly.

“I don’t think Diana is fully human,” he blurted bluntly.

The butler blinked again.

“How so?” Bruce then described what he had witnessed. It was a testimony of Alfred’s trust in him and how weird their lives had been the past twenty years that he didn’t question his word. He only huffed and shook his head. “Why couldn’t you find a simple, honest girl, Master Wayne?”

The sound of a car approaching interrupted the meaningless answer he was about to give. A quick glance at the clock –three a.m. –told him she must have rushed from getting rid of the chimera’s corpse and parked not too far away from here.

“I’ll handle this,” he said quietly. “You should get some sleep.”

Alfred looked like he wanted to protest, but one stubborn stare later –it was Bruce’s responsibility to confront the woman, not his. If a fight ensued, well Bruce was better armed to take her down and the older man would only be in the way. He eventually gave in and left through the back door. Bruce knew Diana shouldn’t be suspicious of his secret yet, especially since he went out covered entirely and with a voice distorter. She, on the other hand, didn’t even cover her face.

_Way to protect your identity, Diana,_ he thought. _What will happen if they tie Hip to you?_

He stepped out of the house, walked down the few steps leading to the yard as the grey car came to a stop. Diana stepped out of her fancy rental car, looking a little tired, though in one piece. She had her white suit on, hiding the armor god-knew-where. A faint smell of burn mixed with her custodian jasmine, but he might have been imagining that too.

“Sorry, I’m late,” she said, perfectly composed. “I had a massive setback and my phone got smashed. Is Hip alright?”

“He’s asleep,” Bruce replied curtly, doing his best to project annoyance in his stance. Batman knew she had a long day. Bruce Wayne was not supposed to. Diana nodded.

“Did he behave tonight?”

“We exchanged stories.” Let her believe whatever she wanted. “He’s a sweetheart. No wonder why you kept him for yourself.”

She took the comment in stride and stared back, unabashed.

“I won’t go over the reasons why, I’ve already said my part,” she replied dryly. Bruce wanted to call her on her hypocrisy. From what he had seen a few hours earlier, her life was a lot more dangerous for a four year old than his so-called debauchery lifestyle. “Would you mind if I borrowed your couch for the night? It’s late enough and I’m not moving Hip if I can help it.”

The decision had been made far before she had arrived, at least in his mind. Bruce nodded and motioned to her to step inside.

“We’ll have to share the couch,” he warned. “I didn’t build a guest room here.” She raised a questioning eyebrow. “My guests usually sleep in my bed.”

She caught the drift.

“Keep in mind, I am not one of your guests,” she warned. He raised his two hands in understanding and let her step in.

 

**Son**

 

“ _Mothermothermothermother_!”

The sound of an overexcited child roused him from his sleep. Bruce had to blink himself awake, his neck stiff from his seated position in the one-place couch. He had gained enough consciousness to witness a tiny figure lost inside a far too big shirt flinging himself upon Diana as if he hadn’t seen her in weeks. In return, the woman hoisted the little boy in her arms while he gave her a bone-crushing hug. The sight drew a smile out of him. To think he had believed her dead, that he had already been making plans on how to work around Hip’s presence at home…This, no matter how he felt about gaining custody of the boy, was a much better ending.

“You’re back,” Hip said, his voice muffled in her collar.

Diana had changed outfit since she had arrived; her white suit had been traded for a pair of black tight jeans and a red-collared sweater. Her hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, her make-up done. He briefly wondered how long she had been up. And what time it actually was. The sun barely seemed to be up. Had she slept at all, in spite of occupying the two-seat couch?

“Of course I am. Did I say I wouldn’t return?”

Bruce lost his smile, wondering if the little boy hadn’t been as indifferent to his mother’s absence as he had let it show. Hip released her from his hug and pouted.

“You should have called,” he chided. Diana smiled apologetically.

“I will try not to forget next time.” His small face brightened and he resumed hugging her. Only then, he seemed to notice Bruce sitting on the couch.

“Oh, good morning Mister Bruce. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes,” Bruce lied cheerfully. “Did you?”

Hippolyte released Diana for the second time in favor of throwing his arms around. Bruce was nearly certain that had she not been strong, she would have dropped him.

“It was _great_! When I woke up, there was cloudy muck on the water-”

“Do you mean mist, my love?” Diana corrected.

“Yeah- _mist_ on the water and the lights were blue and yellow like fairies dancing around the lake –and yesterday we played in the water and Mister Bruce even got his socks wet-“

_And had to throw away a very expensive pair of shoes to the garbage_ , Bruce added mentally.

“-and then we walked in the woods and I didn’t find injured animals. Oh, and I told him the story of the man with no home –him and Alfred –and then we built a tortoise with Legos and the bridge from that English town with bricks and we ate lasagna and then I slept in the biggest bed _ever_!”

“Wow, really?” Diana cooed. “That sounds like some adventure. Who is Alfred?”

Bruce winced slightly at the too-sharp smile and subtle glare she shot him.

“Mister Bruce’s caretaker and hand-man.”

“Handyman,” Diana corrected again.

“Handyman,” Hippolyte obediently repeated. “He knows everything about the house and the manor.” His voice lowered a smidge, as if he was whispering a secret: “He told me a lot of stories on Mister Bruce last night.”

“Oh _really_?” Diana repeated and the glare shifted into amusement. He had the vague feeling Hip would be reporting a very detailed summary of their previous day. He just hoped he’d keep the Dark Knight story actually secret; he wanted to confront Diana first. After the past night, he doubted she could claim his nighttime activity more dangerous than her own adventures.

“I can keep him a little longer, if you need a babysitter again,” he offered a little too quickly.

“I do not need a babysitter, but I assumed you would want to spend some time with him,” she replied coolly. “I brought him back a change of clothes.”

Hippolyte caught on quickly.

“I can stay another day? Please mother?”

“Only if Mister Bruce is alright with that.”

Hippolyte shot him his ‘puppy eyes’. Bruce almost swooned, but would have agreed regardless.

“I don’t mind at all, Hip. I’m glad you want to stay.”

“Water is fun,” the little boy said enthusiastically. “Will you play with us mother?”

“Of course my love,” she replied and kissed his cheek. “You need to dress up first and get some breakfast.”

The little boy immediately wriggled out of her embrace and hurried back to the bedroom, holding the front of the T-shirt up so he wouldn’t trip over the extra fabric. The two adults were left alone. Bruce stared at the woman, a bit at loss at what to do. Diana ran a hand over her face, as if willing to rub the tiredness away.

“I should probably bring him clean clothes,” she muttered. She had dropped the suitcase by the entrance.

“Bedroom is second door on the left,” he offered. She gave him a short nod and promptly walked away. As she vanished, he wondered if he made her nervous. She sure as hell made him uneasy. Bruce sighed and decided he would have to play it by ear. Something told him that Diana Prince was the one kind of woman he’d never expect to meet in a lifetime. A small part of him couldn’t wait to see how the situation would unfold.

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Son**

**Part 6**

 

Hippolyte laughed cheerfully as he kicked the water. The lake projected small waves on the shore, not strong enough to topple the boy over. Diana smiled at the sight of her son so happy and carefree. She walked along, arms crossed, keeping an eye out for him from afar. The cold didn’t get to him, very much like her. Still, his shoes would be drenched and uncomfortable by the end of their walk, and she was glad to have brought two extra pairs. And three changes of clothes. She still couldn’t believe how easily children got dirty.

“Isn’t he going to be sick if he keeps doing this?”

Bruce’s worried tone brought her back to reality.

“I’ll have him take a bath or a shower when we return to your house, if you don’t mind,” she said. “He will get himself clean, a good meal and a few hours nap will suffice.”

The man didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t know Hip like she did. _You never let him_ , a small voice whispered in the back of her mind. For good reasons, she retorted to herself. A shallow man, she had called him, and she had meant every word. It was odd, to think she had felt attracted to him nearly five years back. This lone one, drinking at the bar, looking as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. She had felt the same weight that night, had hoped she could share a little of it with him. Hippolyte had given her a reason to stay grounded. What did he have?

“He really likes water,” Bruce observed. Diana smiled fondly.

“He was almost a year old when he walked in the sea for the first time,” she recalled. “He loved it, and never grew out of it, I suppose.”

Bruce nodded, seeming contemplative. She reported her attention on him and studied his profile more attentively. The world saw him as a notorious playboy and occasionally, a philanthropist. Yet, she remembered the scars marking his chest, the firm muscles underneath his skin, and the intensity in those eyes…Bruce Wayne was hiding something, and given the reputation Gotham had as being one of the most corrupted cities in the States, the last thing she wanted was to involve Hip.

Had her boy been older, had he been capable of defending himself, perhaps she wouldn’t fear this growing closeness between father and son. As for now, she would stand firm in-between.

“Did he get that from you?” His question brought her attention back to his face. He sounded curious and inquiring, just content to make pleasant conversation. And yet…

“I loved the sea as a child,” she replied, careful to study the odd glint in his eye. “Does that mean you don’t?”

He shrugged.

“Never really cared for it,” he admitted. “I never really took the time either.”

Coming from a billionaire whose reputation included leisure and pleasure; _that_ statement came as a surprise. She had read a few articles where he described days of retirement on the beach, enjoying the sun and the waves, and even injuring himself while attempting to surf. If he wasn’t enjoying the seaside, then what was he doing? Again, the nagging suspicion of his hiding something to the outside world came to mind. If he pretended to be on vacations, then what kind of shady business was he involved into?

A thought occurred to her. Bruce was a tall man, a strong one. Diana had spent enough time in Man’s world to recognize the time and energy it took to build a frame such as his. He hadn’t gained the muscles he had overnight. If he was a crime lord, why bother training to fight at all? Most of those she had encountered wouldn’t bother training –they’d hire goons to do the dirty work in their stead.

She reviewed what she knew of him, what she had read of him, and thought of the shadow in Gotham –the one whose name people whispered, like a prayer against ill luck. She had met the Batman, his existence was no longer a doubt in her mind. The question was; who that man could be? Diana frowned as she pursued her thoughts. Bruce, the Batman? The height matched, the voices didn’t –though he had been using a voice distorter, the scars on his body would be evidence of his multiple fights. He did limp a little this morning –consequence of his injury from the chimera the previous night? As for his playboy reputation…it would be a perfect alibi. Who would think the sleazy Bruce Wayne to be a hardcore warrior?

“Is there something on your mind?”

Bruce was watching her intensely again. Those eyes, she thought, did not belong on the face of a playboy billionaire. Her theory suddenly didn’t seem so disputable. Which also suggested he might know about her not being quite normal…Hadn’t he been waiting up for her last night? Hadn’t he welcomed her with barely a question asked about her activities? If she tried to call him on it now, she was nearly certain he would find a way to turn around the conversation into his favor…unless he was waiting for an opening to broach the subject? Gain the upper hand on her? Diana shook her head inwardly; that wouldn’t do. If she was right, and the man was indeed the Bat, she wanted hardcore proof the man’s identity beside her before disclosing her own secrets. A smart man like him would have made the connection between Wonder Woman and Diana Prince, especially since she had met him under both identities at once. Unlike him, she did not wear a mask.

But really…Bruce Wayne, the Batman? There was only one way to find out.

 

**Son**

 

The kick to his injury came out of nowhere.

One moment, they were walking and talking, albeit tensely. The moments of silence weren’t uncomfortable; mostly broken by their common interest in Hippolyte. And then, Diana had stepped back and slammed her foot straight onto the spot the chimera had clawed him. Bruce grunted in surprise, feeling the sharp sting through his leg. He reflexively reached for his injury, all the while glaring at her. The knowing expression on her face informed him he had just been unmasked.

“You _are_ the Bat,” she stated blandly.

Apparently that was the question that had motivated her move, for she didn’t show any aggressive sign afterward. A dirty one, he might add, but smart nonetheless. Bruce considered lying, but then, her knowing of his injury was her own admittance to her particular skillset. He wanted to snort in disbelief; after wondering how he might broach the subject with subtlety, it seemed she would tackle the matter straight ahead. 

“And what are you?” he retorted sharply as he released his injury and faced her fully. “Princess Xena?”

The reference drew a small smile out of her.

“The comparison is tedious at best,” she replied lightly. All humor then left her face as she became serious. “Were you going to tell me about your nighttime’s activities?”

“Were you going to tell me you are a metahuman?”

_Pot, meet Kettle_. Diana held his stare defiantly.

“I believed your reputation to be true. Hippolyte is my son, he will be like me. I did not know if or how you would try to exploit that trait, or even how you would react to it,” she replied sincerely. Her countenance turned stiffer and her face completely blank. “I still do not know how you will react now.”

“Mother?”

The little voice put an end to their argument and both reported their attention on the third party. Hippolyte had stopped playing and was watching them uneasily. His denims were soaked to the thighs but he showed no discomfort. Instead, he nervously slid his eyes from one to another, confused and troubled.

“Everything is alight Hip,” Diana said soothingly. “Mister Bruce and I were just setting a few things straight.”

Bruce hesitated briefly, but added:

“I was telling her the story of the Dark Knight. It’s alright Hip, it truly is.”

Understanding and relief dawned upon his small face and he quickly returned to kicking into the waves. Diana was watching him with the same air of curiosity her son had just displayed.

“You told him about the Batman?”

Bruce winced inwardly.

“He asked for a story no-one knew. I don’t know that many,” he explained. “I never said it was me.”

“Hip is a very smart boy. He would have figured it out faster than you believe,” she said with a hint of pride.

“You taught him well,” he remarked, and it wasn’t quite a reproach. She gave him a flat stare.

“When you want to be left alone, you need to learn to be discreet. I don’t want anyone to take notice of Hippolyte until he is ready. He needs to understand that every action has consequences, that the world isn’t fair, but there is still good to be found in it. The stories I tell him don’t all have happy endings on purpose.” Her expression tightened. “I knew so little back then. I won’t repeat my mother’s mistake and shield the ugliness of the world from him. He needs to know both good and bad things happen to all sorts of people.”

“He’s just a child,” Bruce protested. She met his eye unapologetically.

“So were you when your parents died.”

He had no answer to that. They kept staring at each other for a while.

“You still haven’t replied,” she pointed out. “Will you be able to accept Hippolyte? No matter how –or what –he turns out to be?”

_You’ll stay in touch if only to make sure he doesn’t turn into a monster_ , a small, cynical part whispered.

_No, that’s not why,_ another snapped.

Bruce eyed back the little boy –who had both sleeves deep into the water as he searched for something, a light frown on his face. The resulting expression was so Bruce Wayne, he couldn’t deny him being his flesh and blood. He had very little family left to afford to turn away the last of his blood tie, and he loved the boy. It didn’t matter if he hadn’t known him for so little time, he knew he wanted to keep a connection with Hip.

“He’s mine,” he replied quietly, matter-of-factly. “I will.”

 

**Son**

 

As he said the words, Diana felt he was speaking the truth. Before she could associate the new feeling with relief or further anxiety, he turned serious eyes onto her, and for the first time since that night, she felt their intensity run through her bones. 

"I have a question too," Bruce said quietly. "You say Hip might be like you...but who are you?" 

Diana stiffened and was tempted to look away. She knew his secret, one that could be very damaging should she chose to reveal it. But she wasn't quite ready to spoil every one of hers yet. Not until she knew how far she could trust him. She didn't have time to formulate an answer though, as an enthusiastic cry cut any word she was about to say:

" _Mothermothermother_!"

The little battery-on-legs she called her son ran towards her, proudly holding some oddly-shaped stone in his small hands. 

"Look!" he said, thrusting the rock up. His sleeves were drenched, so was his shirt, not to mention his shoes and denims. Only his hair remained tolerably dry. "Isn't it pretty?" 

The stone lacked color, the side appeared smooth to touch. Hip didn’t struggle lifting it, even though it must weight quite a bit for a young child. The demonstration of strength didn't surprise her -as an Amazon, or a daughter of Zeus with super strength, she had a hard time evaluating the weight of things herself. Observing Etta, and later others, had been eye-opening on how to regulate her strength, what she should or should not be able to lift. She would have to teach Hip soon. 

"It is very pretty," she confirmed, and happy with her agreement, Hip turned to Bruce to show his prize. To his credit, the man appeared interested in the boy's findings. 

"I think it's a rock crystal," Hip went on. "You know; the lucky ones?" 

"The one that shields against ill-will," Diana translated to Bruce. "One of Hippolyte's friend is a psychic." 

"She's a _true_ one," Hip went on happily. "She tells me e-ve-ry-thing about rocks and crystals!" 

"Neat," Bruce replied, though she sensed his disbelief. "Well...perhaps we should head home. You are soaked and wet, Hip." 

The boy stared down at his clothes, as if noticing their wetness for the first time. He glanced at Diana hopefully.

"Bruce is right," she replied and bit back a smirk at his defeated expression. "It isn't that warm outside." 

"But-" he started to protest. One stare and his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Okaaaay." He stared down at the rock, then handed it to Bruce. "Could you throw it back please? It needs to return to its place." 

Bruce bemusedly took the rock and threw it far into the lake. Diana briefly wondered if he was trying to show off –it was quite a distance, for a mortal.

"Let's go back," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder and edging him on the road. She saw Bruce eying her with that stare, and knew there would be words to be said. 

The walk to Bruce's house was quiet, mostly. Hippolyte was the only one rambling, occasionally darting off to a bush to check if no injured animal was hiding there. It only took half an hour for them to return to the lake house. Standing down the steps, a man in his mid to late sixties was waiting for them. 

'Alfred the handyman', she assumed, appeared lean and sturdy. He was smaller than her, but seemed in good health. He wore dressed up, comfortable clothes, and glasses. He also brightened at the sight of Hippolyte, and at the same time, turned wary of her. 

"Alfred, this is Diana, Diana, Alfred Pennyworth," Bruce introduced her. She noted the hint of caution, although wasn't sure to whom it was directed. "Alfred was my guardian after my parents' death." 

So he knew of his nighttime activities, she noted, probably knew of _her_ difference too. Still, Hip greeted him happily without prompting, which was a good sign. 

"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Prince," Alfred said. His tone was perfectly polite, but Diana sensed he was not particularly pleased with her. She briefly wondered if he held hiding Hip from Bruce against her a little more than the father himself did. 

"Likewise," she replied with the same politeness.

They fell silent for a moment, each watching and wondering how to go on from there. As if responding to the tension, Hippolyte made his side clear when he reached for her pants and held it tight. The gesture, while small and seemingly innocent, did not go unnoticed. Alfred Pennyworth schooled his features in an even more neutral setting as Bruce gave him a warning stare. 

For a brief moment, a tensed silence reigned. It was though quickly broken by the little boy.

"May I play with Legos, Mister Bruce?" 

Diana glanced at the man, who approved with a more genuine smile. The four entered the house and the butler and Hip were dispatched to get the toys and settle somewhere, leaving them alone once again. Unlike earlier, they had matter to speak; yet she had no idea where to start.

"Would you have something to drink?" Bruce suddenly asked. 

"No thank you." She replied, and decided she might as well open Pandora's Box. "Why are you the Bat?" 

The man huffed, but didn't appear displeased by her bluntness.

"Straight to the point?" 

"It won't do anyone any good to dance around what we truly want to know, and Hip and I return to Paris tomorrow," she reminded him. 

He sobered instantly. 

"I take it you wouldn't consider prolonging your stay for a few days."

Diana rolled her eyes.

"As I formerly said, Mister Wayne, some of us have to work to keep a living." He seemed on the edge of saying something she wouldn't agree with, so she went on: "Did you take on the cowl to avenge your parents?" 

His mouth snapped shut and he glared at the floor. He muttered something about being too sober for this conversation before answering:

"They loved Gotham as I do, but she isn't a safe place for many people. I try to change that."

"Corrupted police?" she hazarded.

"Commissioner Gordon is a good man," he retorted, perhaps a little too dryly. "I trust him implicitly, as far as the Bat can trust anyone," he amended. “But he isn’t enough. There are too many _volatile_ people in this city.”

She wondered at his sudden honesty; decided she might want to wait to analyze it further. 

"How many people are in the know?" 

Bruce walked past her, let himself sit heavily on the couch. He looked tired, she thought, older than his current age, as if the weight of the world had returned to crash upon his shoulders. 

"Six people," he admitted. "All of them reliable. A few others may have suspicions, but they have nothing to gain by confronting or exposing me." 

So Alfred was one of them, else he wouldn't speak so freely about it. 

"How many know about you?" he retorted. Diana couldn't help but smile.

"More than _just_ a handful." She had been in Man's World for a long time after all. "Most of them are family now." She paused when he seemed a little disgruntled. "I will not spread your secret. Very few know who is Hip's father. They will trust my judgment, if I tell them you are a good man, and will leave it at that." 

Bruce harrumphed and nodded, but he had no other choice to believe her.

"So what are you, _exactly_ ," he repeated his earlier question. 

The inquisitive eyes returned. She held them, unafraid, but felt them through her spine. No-one had made her feel so before, least a man. And then, she realized he had a lot more to lose than she did, should their secrets come out. Every time her identity had been threatened, she had disappeared. Etta, Samir and Charlie’s families protected her; the people she had helped over the years wouldn’t betray her. Should she have to vanish, she could do it. Hippolyte would make the task slightly more difficult, but not impossible. Who would think twice over the departure of a curator of the Louvre? Bruce Wayne though? Bruce Wayne was a well-known face with a very public reputation. He couldn’t hide as easily as she, especially since the Batman’s reputation tilted towards criminality.

The balance was inclining in her favor, she thought, and he _was_ Hip’s father. It would be fair to the poor man to know what he would be getting into.

"I am human, although a different kind," she said, and that was the truth. An ancient kind. Should she speak of it now? Perhaps it would be best. Diana briefly closed her eyes and asked: "How good is your Greek mythology?" 

 

**Son**

 

Sometimes, Alfred wished he had placed bugs all over the house and had a permanent earpiece lodged to listen to Bruce's conversations. While he and Hippolyte were assembling cubs to form what bore a vague resemblance to a tortoise, he knew his charge and the woman, Diana Prince, were having a  _conversation_. Bruce would tell him of it afterwards, but what wouldn't he give to be a fly on the wall! 

"Mister Alfred!" Hippolyte chided. "If you don't want to play, you can go." 

The butler immediately felt guilty and returned his attention to the boy. Hippolyte was clipping two legos together while eying him oddly. He didn't seem quite upset by his lack of involvement. In fact, if Alfred read him correctly, he was rather... _expecting_ his leave. The careful distance in his blue eyes reminded him of Bruce's, especially when he was disappointed with something.

"Is something the matter, Master Hippolyte?" 

The boy pursed his lips and briefly looked down. He put the makeshift tortoise on the ground and clenched his small fists.

"Why do you not like mother?" he mumbled. 

The butler immediately felt guiltier. He thought he had guarded his inner thoughts well enough, but they hadn't escaped the boy. Upon learning of his existence, Alfred had resented Miss Prince, if only for the changes it might have brought to Master Wayne. He had watched his charge self-destruct for far too long, worse after Jason's death. A baby could have given him comfort, could have forced him to focus on life instead of death. Though Alfred knew he shouldn't be too hard on the woman -to her credit, she was no fortune hunter nor of the stupid kind, only claimed to think of her son’s comfort. Still, his resentment had shown upon their introduction, a faux-pas he should have never allowed. And Hippolyte had sensed it.

"I don't dislike your mother, Master Hippolyte," he replied. "I just wished...I just wished we had met earlier."

"Why's that?" the boy inquired, curiosity edging. 

And then he remembered Hippolyte had no idea Bruce was his father. And the resentment returned with a vengeance.

"It is nothing but a silly reason," Alfred said instead. 

The little boy stared at his shoes, obviously upset.

"If the reason is silly, then why are you angry at her?" Hippolyte mumbled. "Mother is too kind to others. That's what Ethan says."

Alfred raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"Who is Ethan?" 

All bad feelings seemed to vanish as the little boy met his gaze and beamed:

"Mother is Ethan's godmother! He's very tall -not as tall as Mister Bruce -and he keeps me when mother is busy! He travels a lot too. Mother says he's an eeeeeen...an eeeengeen..." He paused, considered, and concluded. "He likes to build things." Alfred eyed the legos and had a suspicion that engineer was the word Hippolyte was looking for.  "And -and then Nadia comes sometimes too, and she's like my grandma because she knew first I was in mother's tummy and she's very nice too with little wrinkles right there," he pointed at the corner of his eyes. "But you can't tell that to a lady because it means she's getting old and ladies don't like to be remembered that." Another pause. "That's what Lily says." 

"And Mrs. Lily is right," whoever that was, Alfred thought. He thought the boy must have mentioned her amongst the list of acquaintances the previous evening. Hippolyte giggled.

"It's _Miss_ Lily," he corrected, giggling. "Mother likes her a lot." And suddenly his face turned serious again. "I like you, Mister Alfred. But if you don't like mother, I won't like you anymore."

For years, Alfred had gone through a myriad of emotions. He had to face visceral fear, hurt and anger, most on the account of Bruce and the twenty past years of stunts. He had, on quite a few memorable occasions, been badly injured for the cause. But every time, he had known what to do and what to say. Now, facing a four-year-old with a sharp mind, kind and honest heart, and, he suspected, a stubborn mind of his own, the butler felt at loss. He hadn’t known the boy for long –had spent even less time with him that Bruce, yet Hippolyte had a gift. He could easily draw people in, soothe their troubled heart with a smile and bring indescribable warmth with an innocent touch.

Alfred realized he was starting to like the boy for his own, not only because he was Bruce’s son. The thought of losing the child’s trust suddenly felt…intolerable.

“I shall try to know her better,” Alfred conceded softly. His words seemed to settle Hippolyte. Still, he glanced one last time towards the living room, overheard Miss Prince’s soft intonation, and brushed away the curiosity gnawing him to focus on his surrogate grandson. He would try, he thought, if only for the boy’s sake.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBH I had no idea how to conclude this chapter...Hope you enjoyed it nontheless !


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very sorry for the delay; this story is going completely south of what I had in mind in the beginning.  I have no idea when the next chapter will be posted (under three weeks for sure…when exactly is another matter). I’ll try to do my best ^^”
> 
> Enjoy the read!

**Son**

**Part 7**

Bruce had seen and heard a lot in his forty years of life. Since he had picked up the cowl and explored the darkest streets of Gotham, he had the opportunity to meet a huge panel of different people. Some had a sense of honor, no matter how twisted it might be, others were downright cruel. Some were mere mortals like himself, trying to survive. Others were metas with gifts they, sometimes, couldn't control. He had met peaceful metas before, knew of other vigilantes -though he stayed clear from their paths as they stayed clear from his. 

Still, the woman sitting beside him, his one-night-stand and mother of his child, calmly explained she was a near three-thousand-years-old Amazon who had been in "Man's World" ever since the first world war. Oh wait, he forgot the part where she claimed Zeus was her genitor. He didn't believe a word of it and wrapped that thought around one plain word:

"Bullshit."

Diana, to her credit, did not look offended. If anything, she appeared amused. 

"You asked for the truth," she said with a twinkle in her eyes. The corner of her mouth held definite laugher. "That is the truth." 

He glared at her, trying to figure out if she was making fun of him or not. She had an honest face and had been straightforward with him. From their first conversation, he hadn't pictured her as a skilled liar. If he relied on his inner lie detector, she was telling the truth. His personal logic though, could not accept her words.

He opened his mouth to say -what? he had no idea -and closed it immediately. Instead, he stood from the couch and turned to the spot Alfred usually left the whiskey lying. Except the bottle had vanished, courtesy of Hip's presence. Damn it; he really wanted a glass of something right now. Clearing his frustration aside, he gathered the information he knew: Diana was a skilled, deadly fighter. She appeared invulnerable and possessed super strength. She also fought in an armor that could suit a feminine version of a gladiator. 

She gave birth to Hippolyte, his son. 

He could accept her being different -he would be a first class idiot to consider people like Poison Ivy, Doctor Freeze or even Bane as pure human. But three thousand years old? 

Hell no. 

"Do you have any proof?" he blurted instead. His eyes met hers, still calm and unrepentant.

"If you are willing to wait a few decades, you will notice I do not age," she replied easily. "My armor is older than I am and was made with components that cannot be found in Man's World. A friend of mine tried, out of curiosity." 

An armor would deteriorate with time, he thought. The idea of a foreign substance appealed to the scientist in him.

"May I see it?"

Diana's eyebrow twitched slightly. She suddenly didn't look comfortable anymore. Bruce waited, expecting a reluctant approval or a flat refusal. Instead, she seemed to make up her mind and replied:

"Show me yours, I'll show you mine." 

Ah, he thought. It was a matter of mistrust. He couldn't quite blame her; they had only renewed acquaintances two days ago, found out each other's little secret last night, and now he was preying upon her. He didn't doubt she must have encountered people like him before. He certainly believed she hadn't had a child with them. 

The last thought made him pause. 

“How many children do you have?”

“Hip is the only one,” she replied softly. “I consider him a miracle. I didn’t believe I could bear children.”

He frowned at her in mild disbelief.

“So you’ll claim you had only one kid during a one-night-stand through a hundred years? I don’t believe you were exactly chaste that whole time?”

Diana glared back in turn.

“Hip is my _only_ child,” she repeated coldly. “I cannot prove it, but he is.” Her eyes drifted towards the room where the boy was playing with Alfred. He spotted the longing and love in her eyes, along with a hint of sadness. “I prayed my gods to end my loneliness,” she added quietly. “They gave me my son, and I will be forever grateful.” She turned towards him, raised an eyebrow. “I cannot _make_ you believe me, but I wish you trust that I will only speak the truth.”

Bruce grimaced. Once again, she _looked_ truthful. His _guts_ told him she was truthful and in the end, it didn’t really matter. Hip was the main subject, not any other kid she might have had on the way. If he wanted to earn her trust a little further, he had to make the leap. Hippolyte was in her care; while he had a lot to lose should she betray him, she had a son to protect. Should he let her secret loose, the wrong people might take an interest in the little boy; and if anything happened to Hippolyte because of him…over his dead body.

_Screw it_ , he thought. He was in for the long haul.

“Follow me.”

Diana hesitated briefly before standing in turn. The two walked past the room where Alfred and Hip were building constructions. The butler looked up sharply, narrowed his eyes as he correctly guessed where they were headed.

“Master Wayne?” he called, hiding his uneasiness quite skillfully.

Bruce shook his head, mentioning him not to intervene. This was something he and Diana had to settle. She followed him to the basement, where he stopped before a rather banal wall. There, he turned around to face her.

“I’m doing this because I want you to trust me, and I hope I can trust you in return,” he said quietly. “I also want in, in Hippolyte’s life. Don’t take him away from me. Please.”

Diana pressed her lips together, more and more uneasy herself.

“I won’t,” she conceded instead. “We will work something out.”

Bruce understood that would be the best he would get out of her and pressed a spot on the wall. The doors of an elevator suddenly opened –cleverly hidden from view behind a large painting. He led her inside, pressed a button that didn’t show on the dashboard –level minus three. And down they went.

Leading Diana in his hideout was a serious leap of faith he hoped she appreciated. Even though he was back to working solo with Alfred as backup, a lot of information he kept down there could threaten the safety of many people. Dick, for one, Barbara, Lucius and Leslie and others that have given him a hand in times of need…had she been an ordinary woman, Bruce would have carefully kept that part of his life well separated from her. But Diana was no ordinary woman –truth be told, he didn’t think he had ever met a woman like her.

_Perhaps he should have let her and Hippolyte go after all_ , a dark voice whispered from the back of his mind. He contemplated the idea once again, but knew it would be futile. Hip was _his_ son and he would see him grow –one way or another.

The doors to the underground base opened and the familiar silence and occasional squeaking from the bats welcomed them. She followed him on the platform, eyeing the bundle of high-tech spread around in specific order. Her gaze stopped at the glass case holding Jason’s last costume, but thankfully, she didn’t question it. Instead, she focused on the large screens, the fitted walls of the cave. She didn’t look overly impressed, which somewhat disappointed him.

“So this is where you hide your fancy toys?” She asked. Gadgets were exposed in perfect alignment. Further down, the batmobile was ready to leave for another nocturnal spree. “How do you fit everything underground?”

“Deep pockets and two decades of amelioration and innovation,” he replied with a hint of pride. She turned her attention to the training section with the critical eye of a connoisseur. The falling water, the weights, the huge tires and the hammer he hadn’t bothered putting away since his last session. That, somehow, seemed to impress her more.

“Pure training and skills,” she whispered. “I did wonder if you were…and yet you _are_ only human. This is incredible.” She turned to face him, a new glimmer of respect in her eye. “You are incredible.”

Bruce felt himself straightening. He might have taken offence at the _‘only human’_ part, but he suspected that coming from her, it was a high praise.

“I am glad you are him,” Diana went on softly. “Hippolyte’s father is a good man.”

And just like that, something quivered inside him. He suddenly wanted to reach out to her, tell her more about himself and make her see _him_. He didn’t confide naturally –even Alfred had to pull his teeth when it came to feelings carefully held to his chest. But Diana…Diana was something else. Her big brown eyes pulled him in, encouraged his need to confide…and he wasn’t sure if he liked it. He tightened his fist, forced himself to breathe.

“I showed you mine,” he said eventually. “Show me yours?”

 

**Son**

 

The armor was folded in the case in the trunk. Diana lifted it with the care it demanded and set it on the bedding. She had to hide the suitcase transporting it from Hippolyte’s view, else the little boy would come running in excitement and deprive them from a much private conversation. Her son had always been in awe of her armor, up to begging her to have one made for him. Every single time, her heart would pinch, knowing her mother would never allow such an honor. That is, should they ever find a way back to Themyscira.

“May I?”

Bruce’s expression reflected the same fascination Hippolyte’s usually did. When she allowed it, he reached out and caressed the cool metal with an odd sense of respect. Linda –the friend she had allowed to handle the armor, had been awed too. Unlike Bruce, her friend had understood its significance. Diana felt relieved that her one-time lover would show some reverence, even though the importance of her gesture was lost on him for now. She had been right to show him, she thought.

“Do _you_ know what it is made of?” he inquired after a moment of quiet observation. Diana shrugged.

“No. I never asked how the armory was forged.”

It was true. Back on Themyscira, the forgers made the armors out of iron and other metals; but this was no ordinary protection. She suspected the corrected answer would be ‘forged by Hephaestus’, but doubted he would fully understand the meaning. He was skeptical enough of her origins; no need to drag him further down that road.

He took a bracelet, weighed the leather glove in his hands. It had been well-used over the years, but time had no hold on the toughness of the fabric. God-made items did tend to last through time, Diana thought, amused.

“How old is this?” Bruce wondered out loud.

“I do not know,” she replied honestly. “Mother never said and I never asked.”

He gave her an exasperated stare.

“You don’t question much about these things,” he pointed out, slightly sarcastic.

Diana rolled her eyes.

“I was taught how to care for it, but I did not make it. I cannot tell you what this metal is called according to Man World’s rules, because it is as natural to me as iron is natural to you. Even if I did know, I would most likely not part with that knowledge. It is a trade that belongs to Amazons –and something completely irrelevant to you.”

Bruce looked put off for a moment but didn’t push further. He caressed the bustier, touched the leather skirt, held the bracelets and weighed the boots. While he examined the armor, she examined _him_.

She hadn’t truly taken the time to properly do so yet, too busy worrying about the chimera and his reaction to Hip. Now that the greatest secrets had been revealed…He had yet to stop surprising her. He was more than what the picture newspaper painted him to be. He had courage and strength she found in little men and used the power he held to help others, mainly his city. Her words had been genuine in the cave. She was glad Hippolyte’s father was a man like he.

“You use a rope for combat?”

Diana snapped her attention back at him. Bruce had let aside the armor and glanced back into her suitcase. The lasso of Hestia lay comfortably at the bottom, waiting for its next use.

“I told you it is no mere rope,” she reminded him with a hint of annoyance. “The lasso of Hestia compels you to tell the truth.”

He gave her the same look that when he had claimed ‘bullshit’ for her former stories.

“Try it, if you don’t believe me,” she dared him. As she expected, Bruce Wayne was not one to back out from a challenge. He picked the lasso out of the suitcase and stood up. When the cord glowed, he didn’t drop it –much to his credit. Instead, he stared at his with the same fascination he had her armor.

“So this piece of rope will force me to reveal my deepest thoughts?” he said out loud. Diana bit back a huff and crossed her arms. Well, he asked for it:

“What do you think of this situation?” she demanded casually.

Bruce’s eyes never left the lasso as he started speaking:

“It’s utter nonsense,” he said back readily. “I can believe in the existence of humans with superpowers or unnatural gifts but I draw the line at three thousand years old demigoddesses. I mean, yes, you beat that creature that looked it escaped straight from some bad science-fi movie and this armor you wear is something I’ve never encountered before. Hell it suits you well. And you’re one of the hottest women I’ve met and damn if I can’t get the pictures of you naked in my bed out of my mind since-“

As if realizing what he had just spouted, Bruce dropped the lasso as if it had just caught on fire, his cheeks flaming red. Diana snorted in bewilderment. The two remained silent for a short time, before he mumbled:

“That is not quite what I wanted to say.” He couldn’t meet her eyes. “I guess it does works.”

_‘I told you so’_ was just on her lips. Feeling magnanimous, Diana spared him further humiliation.

“Is there anything else you would want to know?”

She didn’t think he would risk more today. If his embarrassment was telling enough, he would not say or do something that might bring him in an even more vulnerable position.

Evidentially, she underestimated him again.

“Would you spare with me?” he blurted.

Diana blinked.

“Spare with you?” she echoed, not quite sure she had heard him well. Bruce nodded in confirmation, a strange determined glint in his eye.

“After Hip is laid down for his afternoon nap. I’d like to…try our abilities against each other.”

_He wants to see if he can take me down,_ she thought. _He wants to test me._ He should realize after the past evening he could not win against her. Or perhaps he had not quite grasped how powerful she was.

“Why?” she inquired. She needed to hear him to say it out loud. Bruce pressed his lips into a thin line. His eyes drifted towards the lasso and back on her. Diana briefly wondered if the lasso had showed him something he hadn’t admitted to himself.

“I’m curious,” he replied instead, and Diana knew he was lying, or at least, hiding something. An uneasy feeling crept in her chest. Bruce was determined. “We will use the sparring matt in the cave. No need to risk showing off our skills to the world.”

They would be hidden from the outside, he would be free to record their performance with her none the wiser. Diana wasn’t certain she approved of the idea. The sound of Hippolyte shouting about lunchtime broke her focus. She was briefly brought back to the little boy beyond the doors, and she had to remember the man would not cause her harm on purpose. At least, she hoped so. She didn’t want to have to maim him –or worse, if they had to run and dash.

“Fine,” she conceded eventually. She might as well measure the strength of the Batman too. 

Diana just hoped he would not come too roughened up by the experience.

 

 

 


End file.
